


Felis

by TellerOfTales



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Amnesiac Laurent, Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Canon typical Regents overall shittyness as a human being, Canonical Character Death, Dubious Consent, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Political Drama, Pre-Canon, canon typical dub-con, canon typical non-con, mute Laurent, reverse au, slave laurent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2018-08-22 22:23:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8303405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellerOfTales/pseuds/TellerOfTales
Summary: Laurent's uncle had been planning to take the throne for years. The death of his idiot brother and eldest nephew on the fields of Marlas were the perfect moment to strike. It’s a shame he had to kill Laurent too though, his secret pet had been so sweet. The only worrying thing was Laurent's body had gone missing. He had been found alive by two enterprising Akielon soldiers who ended up sending him into the care of Pylaeus to be trained in the art of servitude to one day be presented to Crown Prince Damen. Of course being a mute amnesiac has its advantages and disadvantages as Laurent and his new acquaintances will soon learn.





	1. Felis

**Author's Note:**

> If you are new to this fic, here are a few things you should know.
> 
> \--It starts slow, like really slow but I couldnt bring myself to skip so much time. I promise plot does show up. 
> 
> \--A fair amount of this fic can come off as creepy and that is fine. This isn't a happy-go-lucky fic. If you feel uncomfortable/creeped out this fic is doing its job. 
> 
> \--You may not like Damen a whole lot. You're not really supposed to. It's not told from a POV that shows him in a conventionally good light. 
> 
> \--I have no beta so understand there will be grammar/spelling issues, I'm human. Let me know if there are any major errors.

Auguste had departed at the head of his troops early in the morning just as the sun’s rays peaked over the horizon. He said he wanted to be ready, that he didn’t trust the Akielons to not mount a surprise attack. His army had been ready, their weapons gleamed in the early dawn light.

To Laurent it looked like a river, the blue banners of his father and brother displayed prominently and proudly. The young prince bid a groggy farewell to the two men. Both kissed the crown of his head and promised to see him again soon. They promised he could join them in the next border skirmish. Laurent watched their retreating backs until they were swallowed up by the human river. He stood silently at the tent flap until the river started to flow southwards, towards victory. 

The young princeling went back to bed, in hopes his family’s return would come sooner. Outside his tent the sun crept higher and higher. A cry like thunder on the horizon signaled the start of the battle.

His uncle stopped by to check on him. He too gave Laurent a kiss and a firm embrace before departing with the promise of more later on his lips. Outside the tent, his uncle whispered soft words to his guards. 

Sleep returned easily to Laurent, no barbarian could defeat his family. His dreams were sweet things. The fun he and Auguste would have back at the palace. Hunting with his father. The secret games he and his uncle would play.

Loud shouts woke Laurent. The sun had risen, not quite to its zenith but high enough for him to know the battle had been dragging on for hours. By the sound of things, injured men had been returning to camp. Laurent knew the power seeing their ruler could have on common soldiers and make a move to leave his tent to visit the medical tents. The guards barred his way. They said his uncle had told them to keep him safe inside and would not be budged. 

 _I shall have a talk with Uncle about his later,_ Laurent thought to himself as he retreated back into his tent. With nothing better to do he brushed his blond hair and washed his face in the water basin. Laurent helped himself to the tray of fruit and meats a servant had left out for him.

A commotion outside his tent flap startled Laurent out of his daydreams. Silently he crept over, he had learned that people thought him too young for important matters. What he heard caused the ground to fall away from his feet and take his heart with it. 

“King Aleron is dead. An Akielon arrow took him.” 

 Panic enveloped Laurent. He flew into a flurry of movement. He threw on his simplest tunic, an old gray-blue thing, over his shirt and breeches. If his father could fall, so too could Auguste, or Uncle. He grabbed his sword and strapped it around his waist. 

Not wasting a precious second, Laurent tore out of his tent, headless of his guards’ cries. People made way for the young prince as he sprinted to the edge of camp closest to the battle. He stopped abruptly when he came to it. 

Stretching out in front of him was a truly impressive sight. Thousands of men and horses were spread out before him. From a distance they reminded Laurent of the toy soldiers he used to play with. How was he supposed to find his brother in the mess of bodies? 

A glance behind himself, Laurent could see his guards still coming after him, grim looks on their faces as they huffed and puffed in their armor. Wanting to keep his lead, Laurent sped off into the fray. 

He slipped almost immediately. So close to the ground, Laurent almost retched. The stench alone was terrible but looking closer he could see the dirt had become mud from the churning of thousands of feet and spilling of blood. The smell of human and horse waste hung heavy in the air. Bodies already swelling in the early morning sun lay scattered around him. The flies buzzed and crawled over everything in sight. 

Laurent picked his now filthy self up out of the mud and continued doggedly forward. He dodged and weaved and zig-zagged around other combatants. Occasionally he would lay into an Akielon fighter who was gaining against a Veretian. Laurent never stuck around long enough to hear their heartfelt thanks or see the surprise on their faces at seeing the youngest prince. 

Laurent scrambled up a tall rocky outcropping to try and spot his brother. He did. August was facing a man, who Laurent knew in his heart could only be one person, the Crown Prince of Akielos, Damianos. Laurent’s heart was in his throat. He was too far to call out to his brother and he knew doing so could distract Auguste from a fight for his life. 

Laurent let out a small cheer as Auguste’s sword zinged up Damianos’. It followed up his heavily muscled arm then came slicing down across his broad collarbone. Aguste quickly backed off, not wanting to be close and open to a pain fueled attack. Damianos paused and touched a hand to the wound. Even from a distance Laurent could see his grimace. 

The brute shook his head and adjusted the grip on his sword. Then he let loose a loud cry and rushed towards Auguste. Their blades met with a loud clash that resonated around them. Other fighters paused to watch their leaders dual it out. This was a fight that would sway the tide of war. 

 Damianos’ blood ran freely down his chest and started to stain his white chiton where it peaked out from under his breastplate. Auguste’s laces had come undone at some point and were flailing about. Both of them were covered in filth from long hours of fighting. 

Auguste's foot slipped on a patch of slick mud. Laurent could feel the ground start to fall away again. Damianos took his chance. His sword pierced through Auguste’s chainmail tunic. His sword pierced through Auguste’s flesh. His sword reached across the way and pierced through Laurent’s heart.

Suddenly the ground came rushing back up to meet him. Laurent had fallen from his place on the high rocks. He landed hard. The wind was knocked out of him and his head felt like it had been bashed with the flat of a blade in sparing practice. Laurent’s last thought as his vision tunneled was, _I’ll see you soon Auguste._

His eyes closed before he could see the leering smiles of his guards as one produced a wickedly sharp blade and made a move towards the still body of the boy to finish the job and collect their money. The one on the top of the rock who had pushed his prince looked away in shame and horror. 

***

When the boy awoke, he was surrounded by strange faces speaking a langue he couldn’t fully understand. His head and neck hurt beyond words could describe. He tried to make a sound to convey his discomfort but nothing but a painful gasping breath came out. 

“Do you have a name?” Asked one of the men hovering around him. “Can you understand us?” 

Again the boy opened his mouth but no sound came out, he lay on the bloody mud, gasping like a fish out of water. More conversation flowed around him. He let the harsh babbling rush by his ears.

Sturdy arms picked him up and carried him like he was a babe away from where he lay. When a hand came to cradle his head, the blond pulled away in pain, fresh tears welling up. The man just quietly sushed him looked to his companion. 

“What are we going to do with him Hyakinthos?” 

“He’s all yours, Apallon. You were the one saying we should look for Veretian survivors to ransom,” Hyakinthos answered. He had been all for putting the kid out of his misery. In fact it had been what the two had been fighting over when the boy had woken up. Looking into his lost eyes neither had the heart to kill someone too young to have ever been on the battle field in the first place.

Instead Apallon had decided this would be the Veretian they would ransom. He rationed it may be a high general’s pet. Both had heard stories of how prized beautiful pets were to the greedy Veretians and surely this one was beautiful enough to be bought back. 

Then a thought struck Hyakinthos. “How do you plan to find his master?” Sometime Apallon could be so short-sighted. 

Apallon kept walking but looked down at the boy, once again passed out in his arms. Blood matted the fine hair. Mud covered the boy’s front and back. His breaths were rattling puffs against Apallon’s neck.

Softly, so as not to wake the boy, he said, “I’m not sure, he has no jewelry to attach a note too or any sigil I can see under the mud.”

Hyakinthos couldn’t help as his heart also soften at the injured boy in his lover’s arms. There was no reason for him to have been on the field of war as young as he was. “The way I hear it, someone like him could do well in the Prince Damianos’ service.” At the look Apallon shot him, Hyakinthos added, “If no one claims him that is,” with a wave of his hand.

And indeed, no one claimed the silent blond headed boy in the weeks taken to dismantle and pack away the camps. The two men had sent messages to the Veretian camp with descriptions of the boy, the return messages said no one alive was missing a pet, he was theirs to do with as they pleased.

They cared for him as best two foot soldiers could. They cleaned the large gash on the back of his head and the fine cut across his upper throat. They dressed him in an overlarge spare chiton. The whole while they would talk to him, trying to learn about him.

The boy never spoke a word. When asked his name he looked confused and shook his head. The two men shared pitying glances over the boy’s head. His breathing stayed raspy, despite the cut heeling well, and he seemed to become winded easily.  

The evening before the royal family was to depart Hyakinthos and Apallon were deep in talk about the boy’s -Felis as they had taken to calling him- future. Both agreed to place him in the care of Pylaeus, where he would be trained in the art of servitude and, one day, may be presented before the Prince.

Felis was curious why they had brought him a bath. He gestured to it and shrugged his shoulders. “You have been stewing in your own juices for the past week and a half Felis, you need a bath and we-” Apallon gestured between himself and Hyakinthos, “-need to talk to someone about your future.”

The blond nodded in understanding, he had known he wouldn’t be staying with those two men long. When they left he stripped down and climbed into the small bath. The water was tepid at best but the thought of being clean was enough to make Felis not care. He took time to scrub weeks worth of accumulated filth from every inch of his body. His hair came away in oily strands. The water was cool and cloudy by the time he was done.

Stepping out Felis used the cleaner bits of the old chiton to dry off. He had never felt more refreshed. He bent over to rummage through the other men’s clothes when the tent flap opened. Spinning around, Felis clutched the spoiled chiton in front of himself. In walked Hyakinthos and Apallon, followed by and older man who regarded Felis with a critical eye.

“I can see what you mean about him having potential,” said the old man.

Felis edged nervously closer to Apallon who had walked his way. He looked nervously at Apallon and shot glances towards the stranger, hopefully conveying his uncertainty. Apallon gave him a soft smile and tugged the chiton out of Felis’ grasp.

The boy’s hands flew down to cover himself. _If I could speak,_ he thought venomously at Apallon, instead Felis settled for an angry glare. His head turned back to the old man when he hummed approvingly.

“Go ahead and give him a clean chiton soldier.” To Felis’ relief Apallon did. The boy didn’t hesitate to throw it on, immediately felling more secure. 

The old man approached him slowly and made a circle around him. Felis started to turn but stopped when Apallon have him a hard stare and slowly shook his head. When the old man came back to face Felis the two locked eyes.

“Now, boy, I’m going to ask you a question and you must answer it honestly, your future is determined in this moment.” Felis stood with bated breath as such a final statement. 

“Are you a virgin in every sense of the word?” Felis’ head tilted as he considered for a moment. The old man took this as confusion and questioned further. 

“Have you ever kissed, or been kissed by, someone?” Felis shook his head.

“Have you ever preformed any type of sexual act, or had one preformed on you?” Felis shook his head.

“Have these two,” he gestured at the men, “ever touched in such a way to arouse your manhood?” Felis shook his head.

“Have you ever spilled seed on the sheets at night?” Felis shook his head.

A smile broke out across the man’s wrinkled face. He turned to Apallon and Hyakinthos who both let out deep sighs. “I’d be delighted to take him off your hands. With his looks and demeanor, he has an excellent chance of being able to join the Crown Prince’s household.”

It was Hyakinthos who spoke up as the old man made a move to take Felis’ hand. “Please write us, Pylaeus, write us when he goes to proper training and when he makes it into the Prince’s service.”

As Felis left, hand in hand with Pylaeus, Apallon and Hyakinthos stood side by side. Silent tears fell from Hyakinthos to be kissed way by Apallon. Felis gave them a small wave good-bye. Beside him the old man blathered on, Felis did his best to pay attention but his mind was already occupied with thoughts of what his future would hold.

***

Far across the battle field, the new King of Vere privately celebrated. He had become king in one day. So what if it had been far sooner than planned. The planned arrow had taken out his idiot of a brother. Auguste had been killed by Damianos, already called prince-killer in the camp.

And poor, poor little Prince Laurent, the most tragic of all. He had rushed out to the battle-field, thirsty to prove himself to his older brother and avenge his father, only to have his throat slit and body stolen by an Akielon barbarian. It did worry the man a bit to not have the body but what did it matter in the end, he was king and in an easy positon to stir up a full-fledged war with Akielos when the time was right.


	2. A Glance to the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felis is getting used to the idea of his future as a slave, hopefully for the Crown Prince! The prince in question wishes he didn't have to wait so long to see the beautiful blond slave again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22/10/16: I'm keeping Felis as the story title. It has grown on me and I think it reflects the story well. 
> 
> Also thank you so much for everyone who has already given this fic kudos and comments. It means so much to me to know people are liking my stories and are interested in seeing where they go. Speaking of, I know the plot but you dont, so what are you hoping to see later?!

Pylaeus had told Felis the night before that come morning he would explain what his new future would hold. It was now morning and Felis was growing impatient with the old man who was still sound asleep.

Felis had woken up with the camp, which is to say at dawn. Horses pulling bursting carts trundled loudly by the tent’s thin walls. Men clanked their way past the tent, sandaled feet slapping the mud, voices ringing out clear and loud in the morning mist. He had half a mind to go out and order them to keep quiet when he remembered he couldn’t talk and they wouldn’t obey a lowly, untrained slave. Instead Felis settled for poking his head out of the tent and glaring at the men as they walked by.

 It worked, somewhat. The men would fall silent and stare, unashamedly, at him as they slowed their pace to walk by. Soon Felis noticed some were passing by far more often and staying far longer than necessary, their eyes glued to him. He ducked back inside the privacy of the tent, away from leering eyes that sent a cold chill down his spine and made his head hurt. Inside was spacious, with gauzy curtain dividing the space into what could generously be called rooms. The back half of the tent was where the other slaves rested when not out in the camp. All of them were older than Felis and had finished their three years of training. There was no place for another body in that area so Felis shared Pylaeus’ space.

Entering it, Felis reclined on his nest of donated pillows and blankets to wait for the man to rise from his slumber. Not long after, Pylaeus woke up and laid out a breakfast for himself and Felis. When motioned to, Felis took his seat opposite the old man. “Now, Felis I know everything that has happened to you has been very sudden.” Felis nodded as the man drew a breath before he continued on.

“You will come with me to my training house where you shall learn the basics of what it means to serve. The day you spill seed on you sheets will be the day you leave me for your formal training. That lasts three years, at which time you will, hopefully, be judged worthy of joining Crown Prince Damianos’ household.” Again the man paused to give Felis a chance to gesture for more explanation. The boy gestured to his throat.

“Your scar? Your voice?” Pylaeus prompted for more clarification. Felis bobbed his head in a motion somewhere between a shake and a nod.

“Your cut is healing quite well, the physician said it should scar nicely. And it will be covered by the collar you get after your three years of formal training. As for your voice, the only duty you will be unable to perform is singing and recitation of epics so I hope you prove proficient at the kithara.” Absentmindedly Felis traced a finger along the thin scar that had robbed him of his voice.

On and on went Pylaeus, long into the afternoon, all the while the boy sat with rapt attention, hanging on the old man’s every word. The other slaves would pass by sometimes, to add their own stories and experiences.

They were more than happy to share their histories with the curious youth who was to join their ranks one day. They told him of the wonder of a First Night. They told them of the pleasure of serving Exalted Masters and Mistresses, of the delicacies they had been hand-fed on occasion, of the ecstasy they had been driven to countless times and the gentleness afterwards. The showed off the gold cuffs that graced their necks and wrists to denote their status. The ideas intrigued Felis.

When he was dismissed from Pylaeus’ lecture the other slaves grabbed him by the arms and steered him into their living space. The old man had given them leave to pool their resources and outfit Felis for his new life. They took his directions to heart and suddenly Felis was the center of a shimmering storm. They delighted in lining his eyes and dusting his cheeks with gold, “Like your hair,” they told him. One produced an airy blue chiton made of a fine material to wrap him in. “Like your eyes,” they told him. One had managed to find a hand-full of soft pink flowers to place in his hair, “Like your lips,” they told him. Their laughter was sweet and pure to Felis’ ears.

Beyond the gauze, Pylaeus watched the shadowy figures, a small smile on his lips. It was hard for anyone to transition into this life at Felis’ age but he seemed to be doing well. _Especially as he knows no one, not even himself,_ the old man thought sympathetically. He had seen many things in his time, but this war, and what came from it, was something he wouldn’t soon forget. _And the kingdoms won’t forget this war easily either._

“Felis, come out and show me how you look when they are done,” Pylaeus called out. The shadows stopped moving for a brief moment. It parted to reveal one of the most striking slaves Pylaeus had ever had the honor to train, he knew in his heart this one was destined for the future king.

“Excellent job all of you, Felis looks wonderful,” he said aloud, for the benefit of Felis and the others. The blond looked down at his feet, his cheeks slowly tinting rose. Giggles came from behind the curtain, Pylaeus rolled his eyes.

He paced around the boy, his eyes inspecting every inch in a critical manner. Pylaeus had to admit, the slight scar on the boy’s throat may detract from his value, but that would be covered by his collar one day. His muteness lent itself well to the unobtrusiveness of a slave, though his rattling breaths would need to be dealt with as best they could. His runner’s physique of long, lean muscles was sure to draw the Crown Prince’s eye, and if not it could be reduced with less activity easily. Yes, Pylaeus could see the potential of Felis, _it is as though there is a light inside him that only needs guidance to grow._

Felis broke into a large grin as Pylaeus voiced his thoughts and words of approval. When he was dismissed he trotted back behind the curtain where the chatter picked up again. The sound relaxed Pylaeus, after all the old saying went, happy slaves make a happy house, and it was an idea he whole-heartedly agreed with. He knew the war and its realities had been hard for the gentle slaves so doting over Felis was a gods sent distraction, better than any he could have prayed for.

One evening, as he lay with the other slaves who weren’t out for the night, Felis was told they would be moving out early the next morning. A sense of sadness washed over the blond, he couldn’t remember anything but the army camp, it had become his home over the past few days. The slaves had become his family and they would be returning to the palace while he would be going to the gardens of a man named Nereus with Pylaeus.  His worry didn’t last long under the blinding happiness from the other slaves at the thought of returning to normal life.

They told him of the sights on the road. The endless columns of strong soldiers. The quaint villages hidden in lush valleys. Other travelers who had strange and wondrous tales to share. And best of all, the palace at Ios. It all seemed so grand and exciting to Felis, he couldn’t wait for dawn. 

That is until the sun’s rays lit the horizon and the camp started to stir. Everyone learned early, Felis was by no stretch of the imagination a morning person. Even though he couldn’t spit insults at the unfortunate soul who had to wake him up, he would spend the rest of the morning glaring at anyone in his path. Pylaeus just laughed and said he’d better get used to waking early until he started serving in the Crown Prince’s bed. Felis ate his small breakfast in peeved silence as early morning banter passed over his head.

Packing proved simple for the boy as he had no real possessions to call his own. Felis instead went around helping everyone find their things that had inevitable found a new home over the weeks long campaign. Everyone’s trunks were loaded into the back of a wagon. The tent’s parts were to lay on top.

This dismantling of the tent itself proved interesting –to say the least- in Felis’ mind. He and the other slaves went around and undid the lashings of the tent’s sides to the ground posts. Some of the other’s clearly taking more pleasure in making a show of the proceedings for the benefit of the soldiers who walked by. 

When the material had been folded up and stored away, it came time to take down the heavy poles and cross-beams that had been the tent’s skeleton. The other slaves called out in sultry tones to the onlookers, begging for help from the, “Strong heroes of the war.” It soon became a contest for the men to see who could carry a post by themselves the furthest as the slaves gave appreciative woops of delight. 

When only the large center pole remained, a small group of mounted soldiers walked by. One broke away from the band and brought his horse over by Pylaeus. Around Felis the men were putting their closed fist over their hearts and bowing their heads. A hand grabbed his arm and yanked him downwards. The slaves were all in their prostration poses. Felis mimicked them as best he could.

Internally Felis knew, one of the men in the group was the Exalted Crown Prince Damianos though which one he couldn’t say. On their fine steads with shining armor they had all looked like the divine heroes from the stories the soldiers and the slaves had told him. Such light seemed to radiate off them Felis was glad his face was bowed to the ground, _I would have been blinded had I looked upon them._ Their dark olive skin glistened in the afternoon heat. Dark curls contrasting gold circlets that rested across three of the men’s brows. Long red cloaks spilled from their shoulders and across the backs of their horses.  

Felis’ thoughts whorled as the man talked to Pylaeus, his ears were unable to pick up anything distinct from such a distance. His rattling breathing sounded even louder than normal with his arms pressing against his ears and his mouth towards the grass. The thud of feet and the grunting of men were enough for Felis to know the soldiers had returned to the task of taking down the pole.

Only at the jingle of decorated reins and the clop of hooves on packed earth did Felis allow himself a sigh and a glance upwards. The four divine figures retreated to be swallowed up by the camp’s rapidly disappearing skeleton. On shaky legs he rose.

An elbow to the side almost sent him crashing back down, but he stumbled and caught himself. He glared at the slave who only laughed. In fact all the other slaves crowded around Felis, asking how he felt after seeing the man who would hopefully become his Exalted Master. He made a face and gestured vaguely with his hands, unable to catalog and express all his emotions. 

Felis couldn’t get his mind off the powerful men for the rest of the day. As he sat in the back of the cart under the hot sun he daydreamed about what is new life would bring. He didn’t have any memories of his life before being found by Apallon and Hyakinthos but as he looked at the vanishing fields of Marlas, and the plumes of dust kicked up from the Veretian camp, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of melancholy wash over him.

The boy brushed it aside, it was probably for whatever Master he had served. The two soldiers had told him they had found him on the fields in Veretian clothes. They had asked if he could remember his Master or had anything identifying they could send over the camp so he may be reunited with his Master. Felis had nothing, memories or something physical, to identify himself, let alone a Master. Apallon and Hyakinthos sent letters anyways but no one sent a return message clamming him, he was alone with no clue to his identity.

No, that was no longer true, he knew who he was. He was Felis, a perspective candidate to join the Exalted Crown Prince’s household as a slave. Having only seen a glance at the man, Felis couldn’t help but want to get closer, to truly see him. In that moment, on the back of cart on the way to Ios, Felis made a pact with himself to become worth to serve the Exalted Crown Prince. 

***

“Now, now Damen. Remember, you must wait to have your pretty blond slave,” chided Nikandros with a smile as he and Damen rode behind Kastor and Exalted King Theomedes as they did their final rounds through the camp.

Damen rolled his eyes at his friend and adjusted his seat in the saddle to be able to grip the reins with one hand. He fiddled with the bandage wrapping around his shoulder and chest. The wound Auguste had inflicted on him itched under the layers of bandages and salves.

The young prince tipped his head back, nose to the sky and put on his most haughty persona. “And when he is mine you shall not even have the right to look upon him, for he will be too beautiful for your ugly mug to gaze upon.” Nikandros reached across the gap between their horses and gave Damen a friendly shove, careful of his shoulder. The two laughed, both knowing Damen’s weakness for pale blonds.

***

As the fields of Marlas, in the region of Delfeur now Delpha, shrunk behind the retreating backs of the war-weary combatants, everyone’s thoughts lay to the future and what it may bring.


	3. The Journey South

The road to Ios was long and uncomfortably hot for Felis. The first evening proved miserable, his fair skin had been burnt to a red crisp under the unrelenting sun of Akielos. His arms and exposed shoulder blistered painfully, even after a salve Pylaeus said would help was applied. The only relief came when sleep took him.

The next morning Felis loosely wrapped himself in an unfolded corner of the tent to protect his skin from more sun. It was sweltering under the added layer of fabric. His feet dangled off the edge of the cart as he sat in its back to hear the conversations of the other slaves. He sat up as best he could, his body swaying in the lurching cart. Around him trunks shifted and groaned in the ropes lashing them in place.

The other slaves walked behind, keeping up a constant chatter. Felis had tried to walk with them the first day but was out of breath so quickly everyone thought it would be in his best interest to ride, not walk, to Ios. If they got tired, they would hop into the cart with Felis, not halting their conversation. A tug on a chiton or nudge was the boy’s silent demand for inclusion, a demand the other slaves attempted to placate. _Suddenly my life involves a lot more pointing and gesturing than must have come before_ , Felis reflected. Then, much to his delight, one of the slaves was struck with the idea of giving him a slate and chalk.

_Why couldn’t I have been given this sooner,_ thought Felis in annoyance as he scribbled pictures across the board. They talked about everything and nothing. Of course Felis had questions about the gardens and what he would learn there. “Not much really,” was the general consensus.

Asking about his formal training though, that would lead to long reminiscing and even longer tangents by the other slaves. They all had to pitch in with their own thoughts and feelings. Their easy comradery and pride at serving their Exalted Masters or Mistresses eased Felis’ worrying.

The nights were when Felis would get a glimpse at what the rest of his life would be like. While the slaves didn’t keep the soldiers company all night as they had during the war, they were still sought out. Men would settle down at fires around Pylaeus’ cart and the slaves would flit among them, all the while Felis would watch from the old man’s side.

Most of the slaves would busy themselves fetching food and drink for the men. Some were caught with a giggle or a playful shriek and held in the lap of a well-muscled man. Nothing much came from those encounters that Felis saw, a fact he was more than happy with. He didn’t feel inclined to see his friends rut before him.

Heady with wine, one man would usually start up a tale, only for his voice to be drowned out by the other’s chiming in, correcting his facts. Felis let out a snort at the men’s antics. When they finally settled down, a slave would pick up their kithara and start to play while another would sing the ode of a great hero of old.

As the fires would start to die down, the logs crumbling in on themselves into coals and ash, Felis would feel the day’s length start to creep up on him. Most nights, but not all, he would retreat to his nook in the wagon and curl up, looking at the stars. Some nights though, he would drift between sleep and wakefulness and listen to the stories and gossip from the day.

Choice gossip was of how Exalted Crown Prince Damianos had slain the Veretian Crown Prince, Auguste. When this topic came up, Felis always hoped he would slip to sleep soon as his head started to hurt when he thought too hard about Vere and his life before.

His hopes were usually dashed though if he did not leave immediately. Voices loud with pride for their prince would burrow their way into Felis’ head where he couldn’t escape them. The story of how Auguste had been killed had been told in so many ways, the only fact Felis knew for sure was that the Veretian was dead by Akielon hands. From there talk would turn to the other Veretian prince, “the younger one,” was all he was known by to the foot soldiers.

Gossip flew thick and fast about the younger prince of Vere’s fate under the sweltering heat of the Akielon summer. Everyone and their horse had their own theory about what had happened to him, or at least it seemed that way to Felis. From his perch on the back edge of the cart he heard many versions over the long journey back to Ios.

A popular one was that he had gotten lost somehow and would eventually turn up somewhere. Some said the new king, the boy’s uncle, had killed him to take the throne when his brother, the previous king, and eldest nephew had been killed on the same day. Some said he had been killed on the fields, wanting to prove himself and was one of the countless unidentified bodies in a mass grave. Other outlandish ideas included: the boy turning into a pure white stallion that someone had seen sans tack and rider on the field, the boy being kidnapped by spies from Vask or Patras (depending on who you asked), and some even said he ran away out of grief for his father and brother, unable to stand the thought of the world without them.

All the talk of Vere gave Felis a headache. He knew he had memories and feelings related to the previous king, he must have, _right?_ It was as though all his memories were in cloudy glass vials, locked away on a high shelf. He knew they were there but he couldn’t see, hear, touch, taste, or smell what was in those vials to regain a memory or two.

Sometimes he would try to unlock a memory, chip away at whatever it was that separated them from him. Nothing ever worked. Even if he tried right after hearing the Vere related gossip, when the feelings were fresh, Felis had no moment of clarity, just pounding headaches.  

And the gods had given him plenty of opportunities to hear the ever evolving versions of each tidbit of information. The journey back to Ios took almost a month and a half by his reckoning.

During that time his skin had taken on a light bronze sheen and his hair had grown even fairer till it shone like the palest yellow silk. Felis’ would catch soldiers sidling up to other slaves, asking about the, “pretty silent boy.” At such conversations Felis would retreat towards the center of the cart to practice his Akielon reading and writing. While he would never have to learn epics and odes to recite, Pylaeus still insisted on him being able to read incase his Exalted Master ever slipped him a note with an order or a letter to be delivered. He also practiced his writing which improved his communication abilities immensely much to his delight.  

The book in question was a book of those odes to heroes of legend one of the slaves had brought with them. They were ancient tales. Heroes protecting their village from a pride of man-eating lions. Heroes fighting strange beasts in the Great Northern Forest when Vere and Akielos were one kingdom. Exalted Masters rescuing their favorite slave who had been stolen away by the villain.  

Felis thoroughly enjoyed the task set before him. Reading proved to be an entertaining challenge that was guaranteed to keep his mind off the soldier’s gossip. The days would pass quickly for the boy as he would get lost in his book, only to look up and see hours had passed and the scenery had changed.

Sometimes, Felis would scramble up one of the taller piles of trunks and carefully stand up to gaze at the world around him. Everywhere he looked he saw nothing familiar. The smudge of blue to his right was the sea, they had been following the coast. Every village they passed was the same as the previous and yet different.

Always, women and children would come running out to greet the army. Soldiers would break away and charge at them, to be reunited in happy tears and hugs. The emotions were the same, the people were different. In this manner, what had once been a vast army slowly was whittled down the further south it went as men returned home.

All too soon Pylaeus announced that they were almost to Nereus’ gardens and that from there the other slaves would be returning to the palace at Ios while he and Felis would be staying at the gardens. At the old man’s words Felis felt a sense of fear wash over him. He was so far from anything he might have known before the war. More than likely, nothing would ever trigger his memories this far from Vere. The thought was frightening and comforting in the same instant. Felis would build a new life in Akielos and leave behind thoughts of the past, _past me is dead so I must live on now, as Felis,_ he told himself.  

The closer his new life came, the worse Felis felt. His head was pounding everyday as though someone was taking a hammer to his skull to try and free his memories. He hardly had an appetite due to how nervous he was. At night Felis tossed and turned for hours only to be woken up by dreams he couldn’t remember that left him breathless, silent tears falling down his face.

The day he first saw the Gardens of Nereus dawned like any other. Felis forced down a bit of food and brushed off the questions of how his sleep had been. He curled himself up with a new book and settled down on the folded tent’s fabric and silently began to read. When the sun grew too hot over-head, Felis draped the fabric in such a way as to give himself a bit of shade and continued the story. Suddenly the slaves let out whoops of delight and ran away from the back of the cart where Felis could see them.

Curious, Felis emerged from his hiding spot, his eyes followed his friends as they rushed towards an imposing white marble building not terrible far off. In the seat of the cart Pylaeus laughed at their antics and flicked the reins to get the oxen to speed-up. In silent awe Felis watched as they drew closer and closer.

Tall double doors opened at the incessant knocking of the slaves. They tumbled inwards, into what looked like a courtyard to Felis from where he still stood in the cart that moved ever forwards. _This is it,_ he thought as the cart trundled past the doors, _this is the start of my new life._

People swarmed around the cart and the other slaves. Happy voices rang out around Felis. Arms grabbed his and pulled him out of the cart to be swept up in the celebration.

***

“I heard Pylaeus’ bunch made it to Nereus’ gardens today,” Nikandros hinted at Damen as the two shared a meal. Damen grunted indifferently, not letting his friend get a rise out of him.

Nikandros smiled behind his wine, his friend was far too easy to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Questions: What sort of shinanigans do you want to see Felis get up to while in pre-training? I already have something planned to set up for more later but...theres always room for more. What aspects/activities of pre-training are you hoping to read about in the next chapter? Keep in mind, I'm going off The Training of Erasmus so I won't be pulling it all out of my ass. 
> 
> Also, Nikadros is is totally the snarky mom friend.


	4. In the Gardens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick run down of ages.  
> Felis/Laurent: 14  
> Damen: 19  
> Erasmus/Kallias: 13 (Damen describes Erasmus as 18/19 so thats what i'm going off of)

Late in the evening Felis was shown to what was now his room. It was a small space, with minimal furnishings. A small bed was pushed against the wall to one side, with a chamber-pot tucked away underneath. Beside it, under a window, stood a small table. On the table sat a water pitcher, a shallow bowl, and cup. Across from the bed was a narrow shelf, housing only a pair of sandals, two new linen chitons, and a small face cloth.

His room was but one in a long hall of similar rooms, all looking out into the grassy courtyard. Leaning out of his window, Felis felt a moment of discomfort at his sudden solitude. After being on the road for weeks with the others, the idea of sleeping alone seemed novel. Indeed, the idea they would be leaving for the palace soon left Felis feeling adrift.

That first night, the silence kept him awake. He missed the snuffles and snores of his companions. Only the chirp of crickets came through his window as the moon crept higher and higher in the sky.

The next morning Felis awoke feeling like he had barely slept. Shifting the thin cloth that covered his window, he could see the sky still held the dusty rose color of sunrise. Unsure what else to do, he retreated back to bed to doze a bit longer.

A sharp knock startled him awake. “Felis, are you awake?” Pylaeus’ voice asked from behind it. Felis opened his mouth to respond, but quickly shut it. Instead he stomped loudly over to the shelf, his bare feet slapping the smooth stone, and slipped one of the new chitons on.

When he opened the door, Felis saw Pylaeus had a tray of bread and cheese along with a jug of water. They sat on the bed to eat, all the while Pylaeus was telling Felis of the Gardens. Its history and rules.

Felis was about to take a bite of bread when the old man leveled a serious look at him. “The single most important rule is you must not touch yourself for pleasure. If you do, you are tainted and can serve no one. Do you understand?” Felis nodded solemnly.   

When the food was gone Pylaeus led Felis out of his room. The boy’s eyes swept over everything. Their destination was the kitchen, to return the tray and jug. Before leaving the main building, Pylaeus took Felis on a quick tour of it. He highlighted the baths, infirmary, and his own room.

When Felis mimed washing his chiton, the old man gave him a puzzled stare. Felis kept at it until Pylaeus’ eyes flashed in understanding.

“At the end of the hall, the last room has a fountain. That is where you may get water to fill the jug in your room and wash your clothes. Soaps can be found in the baths of course.”

Felis smiled in relief. The slave who had given the silky blue chiton to him originally had told him last night he could keep it. “You’ll grow into it,” he had teased. As much as Felis loved the silk on his skin, the garment had started to smell quite ripe after weeks on the road and not much washing.

Before he could go wash it though, Pylaeus caught him by the back of his chiton. “Leave it for another day Felis, we have a celebration to prepare for. Consider this your first lesson, I want you to help set the tables.”   

Felis followed the order as best he could. Carefully he set out goblets, utensils, and plates in locations that felt proper to him. Looking at his first setting, Felis couldn’t help but feel something was off about it, as though not all the parts were there.

It didn’t matter in the end, his setting had been wrong. Another slave his age, Erasmus, had told him as much in a haughty voice and proceeded to reset the seat in the Akielon way. The new ordering struck an even more dissonant chord with Felis.

Erasmus huffed an exasperated sigh and continued to set the table. Felis followed suit and set each item down deliberately, memorizing their location. 

Something still felt off to Felis but he shook his head to clear it and got on with his job. Around him slaves were decorating tall poles and trees with trellises of vine and ribbon. A roaring blaze was already in the center of the courtyard where a whole pig spun on a spit. The scent was mouthwatering as its fat crackled and dripped into the fire.

Throughout the day people came up to Felis, wanting to meet the newest member of their ranks. Word quickly spread of his muteness, but people still came up to him to introduce themselves.

When work halted for lunch, Felis found himself pushed to interact with his peers by the slaves from his journey.

When Felis turned his back to his only friends, he was greeted with a daunting challenge. Clusters of slaves sat in the shade of fruit and olive trees. After careful deliberation, Felis chose to approach the smallest group. It was only Erasmus and another boy, two boys his age were far less intimidating than five or six.

He approached them and sat down with confidence. He chose to ignore the way their conversation dropped when he inserted himself into their group.

The boy with dark brown began. “So, uh, Felis is it?” Felis bobbed his head happily around a bite of food. “I’m Kallias and Erasmus says he’s already met you.” Once again Felis nodded, in conformation.

“So is it true you can’t talk,” Erasmus cut in with absolutely zero finesse. Felis’ eyebrows quirked together in confusion. Rather than nod, he tipped his head back to expose the thin white scar that had heeled so well it was almost impossible to see against his pale complexion. Erasmus hummed in thought.

“How did you get it,” Kallias asked curiously. Felis shrugged.

Looking around on the grass around them, Felis’ eyes fell upon a stick. Grabbing it he scrawled out, _I don’t remember my past_ , in the dirt as an explanation.

“So do you not even remember where you’re from?”

_Vere._

At that the two boys exchanged looks. “Explains the hair and eyes,” joked Kallias. Erasmus elbowed him with an annoyed grunt. Kallias shoved him back. Felis had a feeling there was something he wasn’t getting.

Before Felis could ask, Erasmus changed the topic. “Have you heard about the Exalted Princes,” he asked airily.  

 _I’ve seen them._    

Eagerly, the two other boys demanded a description.

_They were tall and looked like gods._

Erasmus let out a wistful sigh and sunk back against the tree. Kallias settled back against him, his head resting on Erasmus’ shoulder.

“We’re hopefully to be for the Exalted Princes. I’m for Exalted Prince Kastor, Erasmus is for Exalted Crown Prince Damianos.” Kallias offered in quiet explanation while Erasmus seemed lost in a daydream.

When lunch was over, Felis wound up with Erasmus and Kallias. He trailed after them, like a silent shadow, still unsure of his place in this new world. The tables had been set so they sat amongst a pile of ribbons, flowers, and vines to make decorations.

Felis was concentrating on tying an intricate knot with a supple vine when Erasmus let out a delighted laugh. Looking up, Felis saw a crown of [daffodils](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8Y4l4JKPsE) was perched on his sandy blond hair. Then they did something he had seen a few of the other slaves do, Kallias leaned in and rubbed his cheek against Erasmus’. Felis felt like he had witnessed a private moment.

Within moments Kallias had a matching crown to call his own. Felis went back to his knot tying as the younger boys pressed their cheeks together again. He was so engrossed in his work that when he felt something placed on his head he jerked up, dislodging it. It was a crown made with pale blue flowers. Sheepishly he put it back on.

He wore it for the rest of the day, not even taking it off during the feast. And oh what a feast it was!

The food was divine in Felis’ opinion, after having eaten only travelers’ rations for close to two months he was ready for _real_ food. The pork had been cooked to perfection and rivulets of grease spilled from his mouth when he took his first bite and moaned in delight. Plates of cheeses and bread dotted the length of the three tables. A generous number of pitchers of watered wine had been set out to wash it all down with. Dessert was bowls of candied almonds, fruit from the yard’s trees, and fluffy pastries drizzled with honey.

As the number of people eating wound down, conversation started to increase. The wine loosened the tongues of everyone, except Felis. He had realized early on -as he relearned his body- he had a low tolerance for alcohol and had to pace himself carefully.           

Felis watched the revelry safely from his seat at one of the long tables. Around the large fire in the center of the U-shape the tables made, the other slaves had started an intricate dance. They wove in and out of one another, how they didn’t trip over each other’s feet or catch the silken scarves trailing from their hands on fire was beyond him. One of the older slaves plucked a staccato rhythm on her kithara while another one sang along.

When the dance was over, the participants retreated to the tables to eat and relax. Someone else took center stage and began reciting a witty ballad of an Exalted Mistress and her trickster of a slave. Felis sipped his heavily watered wine silently, absorbing his new home and its inhabitants.

Many of them were around his age, with only a small handful of boys in their later teens. A fair number of people like Pylaeus were their guardians. If Felis had to guess, he would say about forty people lived in the Gardens. With the palace slaves, their party numbered close to sixty.

Some of those slaves had been surrounded by the young boys, clamoring for stories of Exalted Masters and Mistresses. Even though he had heard many of the stories, Felis chose to sit and listen, drinking in the stories.

He imagined an older version of himself in the place of the slave telling the story and Exalted Crown Prince Damen as the Exalted Mistress in the story.

The cadence of the slave’s voice and the dull murmur of other conversations soon had Felis nodding off. The wine sat heavy in his stomach, dragging his thoughts down with it, to a bed of hazy conscious. He barely registered being led to his room between two slightly less inebriated slaves.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, Felis was out.

The next morning, Felis awoke hating the early hour far more than usual. His head was pounding an inescapable rhythm. His mouth felt fuzzy and the taste of rancid wine was strong on his breath. Felis didn’t even bother to try and get out of bed. He reached under it and dragged out the chamber pot. He lay on the edge of his bed waiting for the inevitable vomit he could feel welling up inside him.

When he had emptied the contents of his stomach and felt up to moving, Felis went to the water room and pitched the vomit down a long shaft meant for waste. Too impatient to go all the way to the baths, he dunked his head into the pool of the fountain. Feeling refreshed Felis went back to his room to put on a clean chiton and grab his water-jug to refill it.

As he walked the long hall to the water room, Felis could hear the shuffles of feet as the others started to wake. However, he was still the only one at the fountain so he didn’t have to wait in a line. He filled his jug with cool water from the spout in the wall where it spilled from the mouth of a carved lion.

As he turned to leave, he almost bumped into Pylaeus. “Ah, I thought I might find you here,” said the old man. “The other slaves are leaving soon and I thought you may wish to say good-bye.” Felis nodded his head vigorously. He raised the jug and jerked his head, indicating he would put it in his room then be ready to say good-bye.

Outside, a familiar sight greeted him. Most of the slaves milled around the cart while a few were fiddling with the trunks, making last minute adjustments. At the sight of Felis all work stopped. They rushed at him and he was enveloped in a mass of hugging bodies.

Cries of, “We’ll miss you,” and “Be good Felis,” rang in his ears. At the thought of them leaving for good, tears started to prick at the corners of his eyes.   A nagging feeling at the back of his mind had Felis dreading their leaving. They had been a cheery constant in his life and were now leaving him with strangers. A figure caught his eye, Pylaeus was speaking to some of the other slaves and their guards by the cart. _At least he’s not leaving me._

Within the hour the cart had left. An empty feeling had taken root in Felis’ heart at the loss of his companions. He wasn’t given much time to dwell on his feeling of loss though, there were chores to do and skills to start learning.

***

After being gone for a little over six months, Damen was glad to be back home. Nikandros had accepted his invitation to say at Ios for a few weeks and the two were already planning hunting trips with other nobles.

The shift from war-time back to court life left Damen feeling frazzled so the hunting was a blessed relief -he had never been as good with politics as Kastor. In the flurry of activity, Damen all but forgot about the boy who had caught his eye. Instead his eyes were drawn to the soft curves and burnished-gold hair of a noble's daughter, Jokaste, who was spending time at the palace too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized I knew a song that fit with Erasmus/Kallias then, when I listened to it thinking of them, I cried. But god damn Seven Daffodils fits how I see their relationship. So I'm gonna use it again later. 
> 
> Also, is there any shenanigans you want to see Felis/Erasmus/Kallias get up to in the next chapter. You gotta tell me soon cause I got plans for the next two chapters and your window of opportunity will be closing. 
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely notes and kudos. Your support means a lot to me. I'm writing this for me because its the kind of story I wanted to read but I knew I couldn't have been the only one. I'm glad others are liking this!
> 
> I LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF MY WORK.


	5. For Whom the Bell Tolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felis settles in and learns some new information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW all you want are comments and all you get are hits orz
> 
> Sorry it's so short guys. This chapter was a struggle to write at all, even with an outline. My winter break is coming up so that means I'll either A: crank out fanfic or B: do nothing since I tend to use fanfic to procrastinate on homework, which I don't have over break. There is no in between with me. So if you want to see more drop me a line here or on [ my tumblr ](http://www.the-teller-of-tales.tumblr.com) saying you want more or something.
> 
> 2016/12/6: I got a polite note pointing out some...issues...so Damen's bit in chapters 4&5 have been changed. 4's now even adds plot!

Felis adjusted to his new life with ease. He had been at the Gardens for a number of months and had fallen into the simple routine.

In the morning he would wake to the slamming of doors and chatter of other boys in the halls. Sometimes they would even stick their head in through the window to rouse him. That would get them a pillow to the face. Felis would then have to blearily shuffle to the water-room to clean up before heading off to the kitchen to help prepare the morning meal.

At breakfast he, Erasmus, and Kallias rotated the duty of serving Pylaeus. This was done to practice for when they became fully fledged slaves. _Service will come naturally to you by then_ , Pylaeus had explained. And Felis had to admit the rare praise he got from Pylaeus -for pouring a drink or performing some other trivial matter correctly- did make his day more often than not.  

Already Felis was learning how to make sweet pastries drizzled with honey and the best ways to prepare certain meats. To accompany them, he learned the amount to water specific wines. Everyday there was a new recipe to learn from the old cook, who insisted on learning everything by heart.

After breakfast was done, the tables cleared, and the dishes scrubbed, Felis followed Pylaeus out to the splendid gardens from which his home garnered its name.

Neat, winding paths wound between low hedges. In the green islands within the hedges grew more types of flowers than Felis could name, at first. Soon, with the help of Pylaeus and the others quizzing him he knew them all. The blue-purple speedwells that Pylaeus liked best. Tall sunflowers arranged in concentric circles formed a private escape. The water-lilies of the crystal-clear ponds hid turtles and fish, much to Felis’ delight. And of course Erasmus and Kallias’ daffodils.

It was theirs and the other boys’ duty to tend to the flowers and fruit trees. The fruits were used in the kitchens while the flowers were used as decoration. Felis enjoyed learning the art of flower arranging, combining different flowers to create meaning gave him another method of communication.

When the weeds had been plucked and the dead leaves cut and taken to the compost pile, Felis and the rest retreated into the cool marble interior of the main building. There Pylaeus would monitor them as they practiced bathing one another. Certain areas were expressly avoided, but Felis learned all the same.

Pour water over their head, gently. Massage the perfumed soap into their hair, slowly. Lather up a soft cloth and scrub their body, sensually. More often than not, the last bit would become and over-the-top contest that would dissolve into giggles and splashes. Pylaeus would let out a sigh and roll his eyes and his three misbehaving charges.

On days they didn’t have splash fights, and therefore more time, they would learn the basics of pressure points and massage. Felis loved to be the one on the table, zoning out as Erasmus and Kallias rubbed oils into his skin. His mind would drift, but never back into the past. Instead he would start to feel like he was on in cloud, the warm mist from the baths lifting him up with it to spiral gently into the sky.

Clean and freshly dressed, the trio followed Pylaeus to their small training room. They would run through the three basic poses for as long as the old man saw fit. Felis could sometimes feel himself drift away as he positioned his body. The cool marble against his shins, forehead, and palms grounded him, enough so he could hear the next position to take. In practiced movements he rose as smoothly as he could. _Back straight, shoulders back, hands on thighs, head down_ , he repeated the mantra in his head and he regulated his loud, rattling breaths.  

Pylaeus paused in front of Felis in his inspection of the boys, “You have improved Felis.” At those short words, a furl of happiness wrapped around the boy’s heart. He ducked his head lower to hide his small grin.

After their posing, Pylaeus would have Felis run through his scales on the kithara while Erasmus and Kallias warmed up their voices. Already the trio had learned short, simple songs. Kallias’ deeper voice harmonizing with Erasmus’ higher one while Felis plucked the strings of the kithara.

Their last activity for the day, after a light lunch, was a series of basic exercises. They would run laps around the room, Felis doing fewer by virtue of his difficulty breathing. He could perform all the stretches though. As the weeks went by Felis could lower himself all the way to the floor in the splits and press his palms flat to the floor while standing with straight legs.

With their exercise done, the young trio was free for the rest of their day, able to do what they wanted. Some days Erasmus and Kallias would sequester themselves in the sunflower hide-away, leaving Felis to practice his reading and writing under the shade of a magnolia tree. Other days, when it was particularly hot, would find them clustered in some shaded area, too hot to move. If the weather was nice, Felis and many of the other slaves-in-training would play simple games like chase.

Through these other games, Felis learned acrobatic tricks. After a few days of practice he could do somersaults, cartwheels, and handstands with the best of them. Handstands in particular were where he excelled, having a natural sense of balance about him that lent itself nicely to being able to walk on his hands.

Felis’ days wound down by helping set the table, in the Akielon way. Then if it was his day to serve Pylaeus, Felis would report to the kitchens to collect food and drink on a tray. If it wasn’t he would sit at one of the end tables with the other boys where food was already set out.

At night the noise of crickets would float through his window. Often, Felis would wonder if he was going to dream that night. He had awoken with the moon still high in the sky breathing hard, with tears sliding down his face or the prickle of sweat on his neck, more times than he cared to count. For all his trying though, Felis could never remember the dreams -or nightmares rather- that roused him so.

One morning, Felis awoke not to the sounds of the other boys but the tolling of a bell. Its loud booms startled him awake, and unsure what it meant he rushed out of his room with only his blanket for covering.

In the hall, he saw the other boys tumbling out of their rooms, dressed and with happy smiles of their faces. Felis quickly went back inside his room to slip on a chiton. When he came back out, he darted over to Erasmus and Kallias, the pair were visibly excited.

“Oh Felis! It looks like someone is moving up today!” Erasmus was bouncing around in delight and clapping his hands as they followed the flow of boys spilling into the yard. Not knowing what was going on or what to do, Felis followed his friends.

In the kitchen they were instructed to begin making a variety of delicacies of which Felis hadn’t tasted since the farewell party for the other slaves heading back to Ios. In the flour that dusted his work station, Felis wrote out _what happened_ and looked to Kallias for an answer.

“Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t know,” he said in realization. “You only leave the Gardens when you spill on the sheets at night. It’s a big celebration because it means you’re ready to start formal training.” Felis nodded to show he understood.

_When will it happen to me?_

This time it was Erasmus who chimed in. “‘The body knows when it’s ready.’ That’s what Pylaeus always says anyways.”

Felis worked away in silence, mulling over this new bit of information. Of course he had noticed that most of the boys here were around his age, much younger than the slaves from the battle-ground. And he hadn’t learned half of the things those slaves had talked about, nor did it seem like he would in the Gardens. _One mystery solved I guess_ , Felis told himself.

In the revelries that followed, Felis found himself thinking more than losing himself to the contagious happiness. When Narsicis, the slave who was to be moving up, came out of the baths, his body was glossy with oil. The others rushed to give him wreaths of flowers strung together after he knelt down on a special cushion. Felis did not rush forward, instead he observed. When Narsicis’ sheet was shaken out, the stain dark and proud, Felis did not make a gesture of approval. His thoughts were on his own body, wondering when his time would come.

***

In the months that followed the war Damen had little time to daydream about anything -his days wère consumed by endless politics. There were new tariffs to hammer out in Delfas. Border skirmishes also picked back up, requiring an early eye and quick action to not allow them to develop into anything major. Neither side was ready to be dragged back into war.

While he was over-seen by his father and had Kastor’s help whenever he wanted it, Damen still felt overwhelmed more often than not. Both insisted he needed more experience in the finer side of ruling if he was to become the Exalted King one day. He wished for Nikandros to still be at the palace so he could use hospitality as an excuse to go off hunting with his friend to escape his duties.

Rather than allow himself to wallow in laziness, Damen applied himself to his tasks for the sake of his people. He would pus on, for their sake. On the fields of Delphas Damen had faught side by sidentifying with men of every level of socity and had seen himself. They fought for Akielos and their families and loved ones, just like him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently daffodils symbolize [ "unrequited love"](http://thelanguageofflowers.com/). God damn it. I didn't mean to do this to myself but look where we are now, crying over the purest ship in the world. Thats where I am at least. 
> 
> Again, your ideas for shenanigans is closing fast. I've gotten one idea so far and I know there must be more out there. 
> 
> But if you really cant think of anything, are you at least enjoying the story? How did you find it if not on the first page of recently updated? Was there a specific tag that caught your eye?


	6. Onwards and Upwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing pains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been a while. I was right, I did nothing over break. Also, this chapter got away from me in terms of length so dont expcet them to all be this long. Be sure to look at the end notes for an important announcement!!!

The seasons changed subtly. The only reason Felis knew at all was by the changing of which fruits and flowers were in bloom. The days still remained warm, though with a bit more rain. When the gray clouds did come, Felis shivered in anticipation. The cold wind dusted off one of the vials of a memory enough to allow him to remember roughhousing in the snow in winter and shouting in surprise when some of it was shoved against the back of his neck.

But snow never came to the sunny Gardens, only a cold rain that sent the frogs of the pond into a loud tizzy and the boys rushing for cover. In the Great Hall, a roaring fire would be lit and tables laid out for meals.

And so Felis passed his days with little change to the schedule he had learned. Serving Pylaeus on his days. Practicing his poses with Erasmus and Kallias. Playing the kithara for them as they practiced their scales. The best part of that was when Erasmus’ voice cracked, badly. Tears streamed down Felis’ face in silent laughter though Kallias laying on the floor, guffawing made it seem like he was laughing for two.

At least he was until Pylaeus said it was a sign Erasmus’ body was maturing and he may move on soon. That sobered Kallias right up. When the three were done with their lessons that day, the other two boys left Felis on his own. It was something they did when the thought of moving up from the Gardens came up, particularly after the bell rang and someone had spilled on the sheets.

On days like that Felis felt cut off from his friends. Sure they made a tight-knit trio but Erasmus and Kallias had been close long before Felis had shown up. His mind would chase itself in circles, trying to remember any friends from before the war, before he lost his memory. In his heart, Felis felt like there was someone he missed. _Clearly, they weren’t important if I can’t remember them,_ he thought acidly.

Felis was a good friend though and let the other boys have their alone time. He would relax in the shade of the olive tree and read from a book of poems Pylaeus had lent him.

If he thought about his life and how it would be described in a poem, Felis felt the word “idyllic” fit nicely. His life was secure, he would want for nothing so long as he served his Exalted Master. And really, was that so much to ask when he would get a roof over his head, food in his stomach, clothes on his back, and be a cherished member of the house. Felis thought it a fair trade.

So Felis applied himself to his studies. His fingers stopped plucking the wrong chords of the kithara. He could now set the table perfectly, blindfolded. When it was his day to served, Felis was attentive to Pylaeus’ every need before the old man realized it himself. He was even catching up to Kallias and Erasmus as far as posing went. And, according to his two friends, even his massaging technique had greatly improved.

Everyday drifted by with the same peaceful rhythm as the day before. Idyllic. But then age caught up with their group. Two years and a bit had passed by Felis’ best guess and he was now one of the oldest boys in the Gardens. Old Pylaeus just repeated his same line when Felis asked when the bells would ring for him: _the body knows when it’s ready._  

***

The bells rang out loud and proud one morning. One of the other boys from the Gardens was moving up. The ritual was the same. The boy shepherded off to the baths. His sheets flung out for all to see. The feast to celebrate.

Oh, the feast! The boy in question was one of the oldest so he was sent off with a proper celebration. Finally, his body deemed itself ready to move onwards and upwards in training.

Erasmus and Kallias stayed attached at the hip throughout the festivities, with Felis orbiting around them. _Every time the bells ring they get like this,_ he thought, _it’s aggravating._ But once again, he let them have their time. Felis could tell they were close, _maybe even closer than any two slaves should be_ , but did not see it as a reason to ruin their lives.  

When dusk fell it found Pylaeus surrounded by the boys who were clamoring for stories of the palace at Ios. Felis lounged by the fire with his friends, sipping a sweet, strong wine.

“Tell us of Exalted Crown Prince Damianos and how he slew Vere’s Viper Prince on the fields of Delpha,” begged Erasmus from where he slouched against Kallias’ chest. The other boys clamored to hear the story. Felis knocked back his goblet of wine and refilled it. _May as well enjoy the story._

Pylaeus raised his hands and called for silence. “Very well. But Erasmus, you will be the one to keep my goblet full.” With a reluctant sigh, Erasmus levered himself upright and moved to stand by the old man’s side with a pitcher in hand.

“The day dawned early for us,” began Pylaeus. Felis settled back on his elbows and looked up at the clear sky. The winter stars marched their way into position. The glittery-grey smudge streaked its way across the sky. Felis let himself be carried away by the story.

“The Exalted Crown Prince had been fighting all day with his men. But so great was he, no Veretian could touch him. Until he came to their Viper Prince. This man had not a hair out of place and he fancied himself able to duel our most Exalted Crown Prince and win.” Guffaws went up from the crowd.

A nudge to his side sent Felis spluttering and coughing up wine. He glared at Kallias who was holding a stick out to him.

With a whisper, the brown haired boy said, “I’ll be the Exalted Crown Prince. You be the Viper Prince.” The boys around heard and shoved Felis upright where Kallias thrust the stick into his hand.

Felis tightened his grip on the stick and on unsteady feet he turned to face his opponent.

Pylaeus rolled his eyes at the boys’ antics. “At the beginning of their dual it seemed the Veretian Prince might win,” he continued. The crowd’s eyes were now drawn to the standing figures, waiting for them to spring to action and bring the story to life.  

The blond knew to wait until he heard the word “begin” but when he did, he charged. With a snarl on his face, he lay into the person before him. The sticks met with a sharp _clack_.

“The Viper Prince did cut our Exalted Crown Prince Damianos. Once.”

“Ouch! Felis be careful,” a voice whined.

“But our beloved Crown Prince summoned all his strength and struck the Veretian through the heart, winning glory for our kingdom on that day.”

A weight caught him around the middle and brought Felis to the ground with a thud. Kallias pinned him to the ground and basked in the cheers of his comrades. Felis struggled to extract a hand from between his hip and Kallias’ knee. When he did, he shoved the other boy off of him.

Kallias stood up and offered a hand to Felis who grasped it. “You looked like you know your way around a stick fight Felis,” he said as he rubbed the side of his arm, breathing hard. In the light of the fire, Felis could see the skin was already starting to bruise. He shrugged in apology and dropped the stick from his white-knuckled grasp.

“That is enough excitement for one evening I do believe. Everyone help clean up, then you can go to bed.” Felis, Erasmus, and Kallias turned to leave. “Not you Kallias, you report to the infirmary and get a comfrey poultice to put on your arm,” Pylaeus called out before the boy in question could get too far.

“Have fun cleaning up,” Kallias teased as he jogged off.

“I hope the physician pokes your arm. Hard!” Erasmus called back. Felis flashed a rude gesture when Kallias glanced back.   

Come morning both would regret their actions.

When the bells boomed out in the early dawn, Felis felt as though his head was the clapper. He stumbled out of bed, in his drunken haze the night before he hadn’t even stripped off his clothes.

Felis drew up alongside Erasmus in the yard and gestured to ask if the other boy knew what was going on. Erasmus didn’t know. Then they saw Kallias coming out of the baths, nude. Following behind him was Pylaeus, carrying folded sheets.  

“No,” Erasmus whispered in a broken voice. He was the first to come before Kallias, despite not having flowers to grace him with. Instead, Erasmus knelt knee to knee before Kallias, tears pooled in both their eyes.

It was Kallias who made the first move. He drew Erasmus into a tight embrace, their cheeks pressed so tightly together it would have been impossible to slide a sheet of paper between them. Erasmus’ sobs drowned out Kallias’ words to him.

Gently, Felis lay a hand on Erasmus’ shoulder and pulled him away. The other boys came up to congratulate Kallias and give him flower wreaths.

Much later, when the second feast in as many days had died down, Erasmus clung to Kallias for all he was worth. Tears had streamed down his face all day, their tracks glistened in the light of the rising moon. When Nereus himself started to lead Kallias to the litter, their hands were entwined until the last possible moment.

Erasmus made two steps to follow them then caught himself with a stumble. He sunk to the ground and wept silent tears for his other half.

In the days that followed Erasmus turned bitter and spiteful towards Felis, his heart raw from being set adrift without Kallias at his side.

“You’re just a nasty Veretian snake. It doesn’t matter you’re blond; Exalted Crown Prince Damianos will take one whiff of your foul blood and have you killed on the spot.”

“I bet you’ll have to stay here the rest of your life. What do you suppose they do to boys who never spill on the sheets? I guess you can always plow fields for the rest of your days.”

“Everyone’s lied to you, the gash across your throat is obvious and hideous. You never had a chance to serve the Exalted Crown Prince.”

Felis felt helpless, unable to speak up for himself. So he scratched out nasty notes to slip to Erasmus. They were full of cruel, spiteful things. _Kallias will forget about you. You’ll never serve Exalted Crown Prince Damianos, I will. You’ll never have a First Night, the most you can hope for is a tumble with a guard._

Their hateful snipes came to a climax when Erasmus caught a group of boys glancing his way and giggling over a piece of paper. Curious, he drew near but the other boys turned away to guard the page. After a frustrating game of keep away, Erasmus managed to rip half the paper away from another boy.    

_Who has hair so fair?_

_(Thanks to the chamomile he puts there)_

_Erasmus! Erasmus!_

_Who has skin white as cream?_

_(So long as he’s out of the sun’s beam)_

_Erasmus! Erasmus!_

The rest of the poem was still clutched in the other boy’s hand. Erasmus’ hands trembled with anger. The other boys ran away shrieking with laughter. Glancing up, Erasmus saw a flick of blond hair disappear behind the corner of the main house. The poem still clutched tightly in his hand, Erasmus charged after the fleeing Felis.

He ran straight into the sturdy form of Pylaeus. The old man’s arm shot out and grabbed Erasmus by the chiton, Felis’ clutched tightly in his other hand. They were in for it now.

Pylaeus frog marched them into their training room of the main house with more strength than his old frame would indicate he possessed, such was his aggravation at his two charges. Both dropped into the turtle pose –chest to knees, hands to knees, and head to the floor- in a show of submission.

Before beginning Pylaeus took a deep breath. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt that you would sort out your differences. _Neither_ of you have shown behavior befitting the Crown Prince’s retinue. Erasmus, you knew you and Kallias would be split up one day and had no right to turn your anger on Felis. And you Felis, you should have come and told me before it got to this point.”

Through his tirade neither boy attempted to interrupt, they knew that would make it even worse. Instead, they stayed curled up, wallowing in shame and guilt.

“As punishment, you will be cleaning _all_ the empty bedrooms and their furniture. That includes the waste pot. Speaking of, both of you will work together, under my supervision, to clean the area around the waste shoot.”

Erasmus let out a quiet noise of disgust. Slowly he uncurled and looked up at Pylaeus with big, begging eyes. “But Master Pylaeus, we aren’t meant to clean,” he began until the old man cut him off.

“Then let this serve as a lesson to you. It may be all you do if your behavior doesn’t improve. It’s late and we start early tomorrow so I suggest you both get to bed.” With that, he turned on his heel and left the abashed Felis and Erasmus behind.

They looked guiltily at each other. Before Felis could take a step, Erasmus rushed and flung his arms around his shoulders.

Between the loud, stuttering sobs that had just started Erasmus gasped out, “F-F-Felis, I’m sorry. With Kallias gone I felt so alone and took my anger out on you. Will you ever forgive me? _Can_ you ever forgive me?” Awkwardly Felis patted his friend’s back as he continued to sob. The feeling of snot and tears on his bare skin was starting to disgust Felis so he carefully extracted himself from the tight embrace.

Erasmus stood there, blubbering, waiting for an answer. Felis let out a full-body sigh. The whole situation had grown out of proportion. _Think next time Felis_ , he chided himself.

Felis reached out an arm to give Erasmus a pat on the shoulder then turned to leave. Based on the snuffling, Erasmus was following him out. As they made their way across the grassy yard, the other boys feel silent and stared after them.

“G’night Felis,” Erasmus mumbled as they each headed to their respective rooms. Felis gave the other boy a little wave and closed his door.

He had closed his eyes but for a moment when a knock woke Felis up.

“Rise and shine Felis,” came the voice from outside. It was Pylaeus. Felis rolled over with a groan and burrowed under the covers, willing the sun to go back down so the old man would leave.

But the sun did no such thing and kept on its upward path. Pylaeus, not bothering to wait for his charge, swept into Felis’ room unceremoniously. He walked over to the bed and yanked the blanket off the glaring boy.

At the sudden cold, Felis tried to snatch back his blanket to no avail. It was dark in the room still, no light came through his window, _too damn early_.

He slipped on a clean chiton, glaring at Pylaeus the whole time. Felis shuffled out and prodded Erasmus, who had been nodding off on his feet just outside the door, towards the water room.

The rest of their day was filled with carrying buckets of water to and fro. The cold water sloshed everywhere, no matter how steady Felis tried to walk. Luckily the rooms were more dusty than anything. A few mouse droppings and spider webs were nothing compared to having to clean the waste shoot, something both boys were dreading.

It took Felis and Erasmus the better part of two days to clean all the empty rooms on top of their usual duties. As it was their punishment, no one offered to help. On the dawn of the third day, they looked at each other with grimaces.

“The waste shoot isn’t going to clean itself boys,” Pylaeus said without a shred of sympathy. He followed close behind as the two boys trudged towards the room like men headed for the gallows.

Gagging at the foul odor so close to the opening, Felis and Erasmus got to work. While the opening was quite wide, spills always happened and it hadn’t been cleaned in the past few months.

The boys worked as quickly as they could, not wanting to spend any more time than necessary near the shoot. Pylaeus wasn’t having it though. Whenever they thought themselves done he would critically examine it; an hour and a half later it was finally up to snuff.

Felis and Erasmus scurried to put away the cleaning supplies and enjoy the day. They regrouped in the circle of sunflowers, enjoying the perfumed air within.

Laying down and looking up at the sky, Felis could see clouds drifting by only to be cut off by the bright yellow petals. The grass tickled where it whispered against his exposed skin. He clenched it in his fingers, enjoying its softness. A cricket hopped on his shoulder and promptly hopped off with an indignant chirp when Felis twitched in surprise.

“I miss him,” Erasmus started suddenly. Felis made no move to indicate his feelings.

“We would come here a lot, to spend time together. I know Pylaeus and Nereus said we were like brothers and therefore perfectly matched for the Exalted Brothers but really-,” he broke off, trying to collect his thought.

With a sad, strangled crack in his voice Erasmus continued. “Kallias was more than my brother. I know I shouldn’t say that. That it isn’t right for a slave to think that. But, but he is my other half. I know I’ll love to serve my Exalted Master but Kallias will always hold a piece of my heart.” Erasmus stayed quiet after that.

 _Even if I could talk, I don’t know what I’d say to that,_ Felis reflected. He had no close bonds with anyone, not like the bond between Erasmus and Kallias. He did know if he had _ever_ had a bond like that with anyone, let alone a brother.

Pylaeus only came to find them when it was time to serve lunch. Having finished their tasks, their days were back to normal. Erasmus and Felis alternated serving. Rather than exercise with the other boys in the yard, Pylaeus sent his charges to enjoy a bath, free from practice. By the time dinner rolled around both had settled back into their usual routines.

Those routines lasted another season.

***

Felis had gone to bed feeling content. The day had gone well. Pylaeus had praised his ever-growing skill with the kithara. The almond trees had finally ripened and were ready to be harvested. He and Erasmus had lain under them and gorged themselves after exercising, laughing at the critical eye Pylaeus gave them.

In the morning, Felis awoke feeling better than he had in ages. Sure it was early by his standards, but his mind and body still felt adrift on the sea of dreams. A loud series knock on the door had him groan and stretch, mentally preparing himself for the arduous task of getting out of bed.

“Come on Felis! Get your lazy ass out of bed!” Erasmus barged into his room and whipped off his blankets. Then he dropped them back onto Felis’ stomach.

“Pylaeus,” he cried out as he sped out of the room. Curious, Felis started to get up when he felt it. The wet spot. His body was finally ready.

Felis was headed to the palace at Ios to begin his final training.

***

As the years past, Damen tried his best to develop his skills in political matters. It never went too well, but that’s what Kastor was for. Damen wasn’t blind, he knew he was the brawn and Kastor the brain. In his mind they struck a good balance.

According to the reports from the border, there hadn’t been so much as a peep from Vere. Damen always made sure to write letters back, thanking the men for their vigilant watch. When Kastor learned of this, he offered to look them over for Damen and see they were sent off himself. Damen thanked his brother profusely for always looking out for him. Kastor just smiled and said it was good Akielos had someone looking out for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys thing? Was my return a triumphant one?
> 
> If you head on over to my [tumblr](http://the-teller-of-tales.tumblr.com) there may be a certain tab that interests you if you have plot bunnies that need writing.


	7. Good as Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God the start of this chapter DIDN'T want to be written >:I  
> That being said, I've already started chapter 8. (kinda by accident. i just kept writing past where i was going to cut this chapter off lol)
> 
> Important Note: If I don't get a new chapter up by May, don't expect a new one up till September. I'll be studying abroad all summer so my internet will be ??? and my English will be even more ??? by the end. I'm gonna try and do my best to finish this before I go off but no promises. 
> 
> In the mean time, I hope you enjoy :D

Erasmus had been inconsolable. Felis pitied him, both his friends were leaving, and in quick succession, while he would have to wait, longing to move on.

Felis tried his best to comfort the crying boy while still maintaining the proper etiquette for the ceremony of his moving up. But he was not Kallias, he did not touch cheeks with anyone, even Erasmus. Instead, he gave his gentlest smile and softest eyes, hoping his friend would understand.

At the end of the festivities, Erasmus’ eyes were red and his voice was hoarse. His silent tears were the last thing Felis saw before the doors to the Gardens were closed. In front of him stood a [litter](http://www.vroma.org/images/mcmanus_images/litter.jpg) with four large men on each corner.

The sight of them took Felis’ breath away. Certainly, he had seen soldiers before, but that had been ages ago. He had grown used to seeing other bodies like his, long and lean. These men were powerfully built, their biceps bulging over leather bands they all wore. Their shoulders were so broad, Felis fancied he could sit on one, Kallias on the other, and there would still be room for Erasmus somewhere.

The urge to kneel, to serve these men, surged up in his body. He sunk to his knees beside Pylaeus who was giving final instructions to the men. Not unkindly the old man ordered Felis up and helped him onto the bed. He was given a moment to adjust his position, then Pylaeus was positioning is pliant arms. The ghost of gold thread that wound around his wrists held his attention the moment it touched his bare skin. _No more movement:_ his mind went blank.  

The space around him went dark as the curtains of his litter were drawn shut. In a smooth motion, it was lifted from the ground and carried out. 

Part of Felis yearned to run, to break free from the golden thread. But then where would he go? _Back to the Gardens, back to safety. Away, have my own adventure like the heroes in the stories._ His brain was running itself in circles with nervous energy.

Felis took a calming breath and thought of his future master, the Exalted Crown Prince. Thinking of that day -so long ago now- on the fields of Delpha had become a place of refuge for him. It was a place of mental solitude and peace. A feeling of clarity would wash over him when he thought of the men he had seen. He had one purpose in regards to them.

Over the years he had whittled down his guesses on who was who. The old man, the Exalted King, of course. The one just behind him, the eldest of the brothers, Exalted Prince Kastor. That left the two youths. Their faces and clothes had blurred with time: Felis couldn’t guess _which_ he would serve at the end of his training. Both had look equally resplendent silhouetted against the sun and mounted on fine steeds.  

He was jolted from his reverie by a sudden cacophony. Turning his head, Felis could see he was no longer on marble floors, here the ground was dirt. _The Outside_. A great longing came over him for something he couldn’t place. And yet the thought of being seen naked by a commoner was abhorrent.

The path through the Outside didn’t last long. Soon the echoing slap of leather shoes was enough for Felis to know they had made it to the palace. His breath quickened at the thought. A new stage of his life was rushing to meet him. He was no longer a boy, but not yet a man.

The curtains were thrown wide and that fluid in-between stage of life engulfed him in a wash of bright light.

A chiseled face with a salt and pepper beard greeted him. Frozen, Felis didn’t move: he was unsure of what to do.

“Bring your hands to your lap. Don’t let the knot unravel.” The man spoke with a deep, powerful voice. Carefully, Felis did as he was told, hyper-conscious of the gold thread and its loose knot. He fought the urge to look to the man for the next direction, instead, he kept his eyes looking towards the sky.

The man leaned over him, inspecting his wrists to make sure the knot was still in place. He nodded in satisfaction that it was. Without ceremony, he pulled a loose end and freed Felis’ wrists.

“I am Tarchon, First Trainer of the palace slaves. Get dressed and follow me.” The man turned on his heel and started walking away. Felis swung his legs over the edge of the litter and trotted after the man on quiet feet. He struggled to put on his airy new chiton as he moved quickly to a tall set of dark wood doors.  

They were pushed open. Felis found himself staring at a marble paved sunlit courtyard with slaves milling about. There were some sitting on the edge of a fountain with pitchers of water by their hips. Further down the length of the courtyard were three pools where people lounged about, fanning themselves and drizzling cool water over their bodies in the hot sun.

Once again, Felis found himself on a tour of his new living quarters.

 “On the left, you have the training hall, baths, and dining hall. The kitchen is attached to that.” Through the arched marble columns, Felis spied his fellow trainees in various poses. Delicious scents wafted from the kitchens that made his stomach rumble. He ignored it.

The tour paused at the fountain. The slaves that were there dropped in supplication to Tarchon until he bid them rise.

“This is where you will get your personal drinking water for your room. Speaking of which-” Tarchon turned to the right and walked to the covered hall that ran the length of the paved courtyard.

Along the outer edge ran evenly spaced doors and windows. Felis’ new mentor took a moment to count to himself before moving a few doors down.

“Here you are Felis, your home for the next three years,” he opened the door without ceremony.

Not that this room required any. It was much the same as his old. A small bed pushed against the wall, _though the bedding looks nicer_ , Felis noted to himself. He nodded to show his satisfaction with his new lodging.

Tarchon shuffled him out of the room and back into the sun of the courtyard. The gray marble was hot against his feet. At the wading pools, he longed to shed his clothes and jump in, but Tarchon only spared them a passing mention.

Grassy paths wound around and between the pools. They flowed down wide shallow steps that opened to a large grassy area.

On one end was a copse of trees: fruit and nut trees if Felis had to hazard a guess. On the other was a hedge maze with a gazebo at its center.

The sight in front of him took his breath away. The sky and the sea spread out before him, their ends flung far away from each other. Felis felt he could see the whole world, and that whole world was blue with a bright light at its center. He felt at peace looking out at the vastness.

A wide shoulder-high stone railing ran the width of the slave compounds at the cliff’s edge. Felis couldn’t see its ends where they disappeared into the orchard and maze. Tarchon gave him a moment to stare out and breathe in the salty air.

Being up so high, so close to the edge of a cliff was bracing. It lent a tinge of wild exhilaration to his new home that was carried on the ocean breeze. Sure, the ocean breeze brought with it the promise of muggy heat, but currently, it blew away the bugs so Felis was okay with it.

That evening, the winds kept the sky clear and stars added their glow to the celebratory fires for Felis’ welcoming ceremony.

Gold satin ribbons were tied around his wrists and neck. Their ends trailed and brushed against his body, making them impossible to ignore.

Tarchon also presented him with a [lion](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/c4/96/58/c49658368a0481cab24155a70f22e365.jpg) pin, much to the delighted oohs and ahs of the crowd.

“You get that, for now. Should your skills not match your looks, it will be taken away. Pylaeus said you were good, everyone here is good, you must be _perfect_. An exalted Prince only deserves perfection, so be that and you’ll get your First Night.” Tarchon delivered his speech for Felis’ benefit as much as the others’.

His words sent a shiver down Felis’ spine. The metal against his skin felt cold for an instant. He ran his finger against the sharp teeth and the softly swirled mane. Yet more gold to make him stand out from the crowd, _as though my hair wasn’t enough._

And yet, the best part of the evening was seeing a familiar face, Kallias. The dark haired boy had rushed to greet him as soon as he was able. He was so enthusiastic Felis was almost bowled over by the force of his hug.

Something hard pressed into Felis’ shoulder. Looking down he saw it was a golden pin. His was like Felis’ in that it held the likeness of a [lion](https://medias.expertissim.com/media/cache/media_zoom/uploads/object/2015/01/22/12229902/2500x2500_54c8e049ec389.jpg) but Kallias’ was carved in bas relief upon its flat surface.

At the questioning tilt of Felis’ head, Kallias’ eyes lit up with pride. “I’m to be for Exalted Prince Kastor.” He puffed out his chest, the gold flashed in the dancing firelight. To Felis, the lion seemed to come alive for an instant.

The two stayed up long into the night. Felis was grateful to have someone who understood his gestures and expressions. Kallias told him of his training, of the other boys, of waiting for his friends to join him.

Of course, the subject of Erasmus came up. Felis gave no indication that he had left the boy heartbroken. He didn’t want to be needlessly cruel to Kallias, he had learned that lesson in his last days with Erasmus.

The fires had long turned to coals by the time Felis stood up and retreated to bed. Carefully, he lay his pin on his bedside table. He ran a slim finger along the smooth slope between its eyes. Internally, he bid it good night and rolled over, waiting for sleep to take him.

***

Felis’ new training regime had started that very next morning. For months it was nothing but holding the same poses for a hellishly long time in the heat of Ios. The training hall was shaded, of course, but it lacked large windows to let in the ocean breeze which would drive the humidity away. Outside, Felis ran the risk of being burnt to a crisp.

Tarchon had been adamant he stay out of the sun as best he could to preserve his pale complexion. Felis knew it also helped the scar on his throat not stand out. But in staying out of the sun, his hair changed from a pale yellow to a butter yellow, much to Tarchon’s annoyance.

So a happy medium had been found, supplemented by chamomile hair oil to keep it light. Kallias proved to be helpful too: he would help shade Felis when the two were out lounging by the pools.

While the others were practicing their singing and recitation of epics, Felis instead was taught how to care for his future Master’s armor. The tasks came easily to him. Clean the leather and oil it down. Clean the sword and sharpen it. Clean the brass armor and shine it. There was a peace that came to him in the repetitive motions, even it was just practice on cast-offs.

Kallias still begged Felis to help him memorize the long epics in their spare time so Felis learned those too. At night he would recount them in his head. _Long into the night, Lutra waited by the shore for the proud mast of a ship to crest the horizon,_ and _A vast horde stood before the mighty few, led by Adrianous, who dared challenge the tyrant for their fellow countrymen._  The words carried him to sleep more nights than not.

The kithara was where Felis excelled most. His nimble fingers learned even the hardest of songs with ease and he was surpassing even those who had specialized in the kithara. Tarchon looked on and nodded in quiet praise. The warmth of pride bubbled up in Felis’ chest in those moments.

Soon he was paired with some of the older slaves-in-training to practicing being the accompaniment. At dinner, he and his partner would provide the evening’s entertainment when it was their turn in the cycle of other performers. Other nights Felis would dance with others at his own level, including Kallias.

If there was a rumble of thunder in the distance, they would flee inside the long dining hall before the rain came. Of course, they would be drenched no matter the route they took back to their rooms. The marble awning did very little to shield them from the rain when the wind blew it sideways.

And oh the storms! Felis would have screamed if he could the first time a clap of thunder cracked just outside his room. The wind howled past his latched shutters and rattled them with enough force he was scared they would fly away.

That evening he had lain away in fear. The thunder sounded _so_ close when it boomed. And the sound of the waves slamming into the cliff face carried all the way to his room. Felis fancied he could feel the very cliff shake and worried it would tumble into the ocean where he would be swallowed by the water.

Nights like that passed too slowly for Felis. Sometimes, if he was lucky, exhaustion would take him in the early hours even if the sky still raged. More often than not he was kept awake, longing for someone to comfort him through the storm.

But Felis learned to cope. He would clutch his lion pin to his chest until the metal grew hot and sweaty in his hand. He mouthed silent prayers to it and who it represented, promising perfect service, _if the storms would just end right now_.

His beloved lion pin drew the jealous stares of many of the other in the training compound. Kallias explained how rare it was for the Princes to take a male slave for a Frist Night.

Those, First Nights, constituted half of the gossip Felis heard by his reckoning. It wasn’t something every slave got, but one everyone wanted. It carried the promise of permanence and a rank among other slaves. There was also an air of mystery about it. Of course, everyone knew what happened on a First Night, but those in training for a specific Master or Mistress _never_ went into detail.

***

At the start of his third and final year of training, news came to the training compound that shook them all. The Exalted King was sick. Those with the King’s pin openly wept.

Every day when news from the palace came they feared the worst and every day the let out the breaths they’d been holding with relief. The King was still alive, still strong.

Felis didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, the man was his King. On the other, his future master was to be king one day and who was Felis to try to stop that day from coming sooner. The future would come whether he wanted it to or not.

***

Six months past. The King still lived. Kallias had started training for his First Night a few months prior. Erasmus had _finally_ joined Felis and Kallias. The happy trio was back together at long last. Tarchon had looked on with approval at their joyous reunion, all three of their lion pins flashed in the sunlight.

Now it was Felis’ turn to start _his_ training for _his_ First Night.

Much of it was devoted to learning the preferences of Exalted Crown Prince Damianos. No part of his day was overlooked in Felis’ training.

It started by learning the numerous ways to dress the Crown Prince in what amounted to a glorified sheet.

From there it was what breakfasts the Crown Prince preferred. His choice depended on what his plans for the rest of the day were like. On days spent on state affairs where he would be sitting and talking much of the time he wanted nothing more than a bowl of oats with honey and almonds. And training days, which were far more common, he preferred a hearty meal of dried fish, cheese, thick bread, and fruits. Of course, Felis was encouraged to surprise his master occasionally and add something special.

Hand in hand with selecting the Crown Prince’s food was serving it at all meals. And once again Felis had to learn all the little nuances depending on the situation.

One of his favorite things to learn were bathing skills. How to mix scented oils to produce a pleasing scent that wasn’t overpowering. The benefits of various herbs, oils, and powerders that could be added. Massage techniques Erasmus and Kallias raved about when he needed a body to practice on.

More focus was placed on the actual washing too. No longer could Felis get way with splash fights, the days until his First Night chipped away too quickly to goof off.

The activities that could happen under the stars of a First Night were carefully taught to Felis. Much of it was theoretical in order to keep his body virtuous for the Crown Prince. But he still learned. A female slave, the Crown Prince’s favorite, was brought in special so that she may tell him of their Master’s preferences in bed.

The way she describe how tender he was to her on her First Night eased Felis’ nervous heart. His life was culminating to a moment that was rushing ever closer. When he explained his worries to her, she laughed in agreement, saying that was how she had felt too.

His final week before his First Night was spent picking at his food for fear of throwing it back up, out of nervousness, excitement, or some hellish mix of the two. Kallias hadn’t visited since his First Night with the other Exalted Prince so Felis couldn’t even talk to his friend to ease his mind.

The day of his presentation to the Exalted Crown Prince dawned early.

First, it was to the baths, to be bathed and oiled within an inch of his life. Felis nearly nodded off on the massage table he felt so relaxed. The sun was rising on the most important day of his life, he only had to wait for it to set.

Next Tarchon handed him a folded up chiton of the silkiest material Felis had ever felt: a vial of oil sat on top innocently. Through careful draping, the vial was secreted away into a fold of fabric. Its weight ground Felis as it jostled against his thigh as they walked out to where a celebratory breakfast was laid out. No one would see it, the fabric was opaque so as to preserve his modesty for the Crown Prince.

The food was delicious, the cook had even prepared his favorite: a sweet dense cake with little pearls of sugar decorating its crust. Erasmus was silently crying into his bowl of honeyed oats. Felis made sure to stop by his friend and slip him the short note he had composed the night before.

Erasmus read it and clutched it to his chest. “Th-th-thank you Felis,” he choked out. Felis wrapped him up in a tight hug.

Then it was time to follow Tarchon out through the doors he had only passed through once before, on the day he arrived at the palace.

This time he followed on foot, a step behind his trainer with his head bowed down and hands behind his back. The ends of the ribbons still around his wrists and neck tickled is back and thighs.

Sandal-clad feet past in Felis’ periphery. He got lost in the twists and turns of the palace proper. But Tarchon marched onwards with a sense of purpose, they had a location that Felis could practically _feel_ himself being drawn towards.

When they came to a stop and Felis finally looked up, gilded doors greeted him. The proud head of a crowned lion was carved into the dark wood with figures bowing beneath it. _My final home,_ Felis realized.

“Welcome to the quarters for the Exalted Crown Prince’s slaves Felis.” Tarchon pushed open the doors. Then, in a rare concession, he added, “You’ve done Nereus and yourself proud. Congratulations.”

***

Damen had been having a great day. He had bested his captain of the guard in a friendly wrestling match. There was to be a prize fight later in the week to foster friendship between the regions of Akielos. Then he was told Tarchon had requested a meeting. Damen looked forward to those, they meant a First Night would be happening soon.

Except that wasn’t the case this time. No, Tarchon told him they had a promising candidate to join his retinue, but there was one problem: the slave was mute. When he asked why and heard the story as Tarchon had learned it, “He was found on the fields of Marlas as a boy, his throat slit it a botched attempt at killing him,” Damen’s heart softened. “His scar is near invisible though already, and with a proper collar, you won’t even notice,” Tarchon assured him.

Damen took a moment to deliberate. _A mute slave with a slit throat from Marlas_. It would certainly be an interesting story if someone asked. “He may join me provided he passes your judgment,” he told his First Trainor.

Two years passed and Damen’s mind was filled with so much else he had all but forgotten about his mute slave-to-be. His father had suddenly become ill and none of the physicians had a ready-made cure. He grew more are more desperate by the day. There was little else he could think of but the future of his family and country.

Time passed and his father didn’t get any better or worse but lay in bed still weak. Kastor went off to the border to show royal support for its defenders. Damen felt alone.

The day Tarchon came by and told him his mute slave would be ready for his First Night in a week was welcome news indeed.   


	8. The Shadow Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION READ THIS WARNING: This is where the dub/non-con tags come into play. Damen and Felis don't get really far, but with the power imbalance, your definition of dub>non may be crossed. Also, Felis does have a vague flashback. If you wish to avoid that, when you start to see "away, away, away" towards the end of Felis' POV you may want to skip to Damen's POV. I made Damen's POV an overview of the First Night without going into too much explicit detail. If I've done my math right, Felis is 18 1/2 in this chapter. 
> 
> On a lighter note for myself, this was the chapter I've been writing towards. It only took 18k...but I made it! Our story will be wrapping up soon but I may make a few extra scenes I've had floating around in my head, after I work on other fics I'm going to let myself start once I finish this one. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with me this far, it means so much to see your wonderful comments.

Inside his new quarters, a common area was sunk a few steps down from a square path that ran all around its perimeter. In it, sat a number of slaves who waved and said hello to their newest member. Felis waved back shyly. Before proper introductions could be made, he was led to the left. “The men’s side,” as Tarchon explained. He opened a wrought iron gate and ushered Felis through.

The men’s dormitory was nothing more than large common sleeping area piled high with pillows and blankets. Around its perimeter were nooks and alcoves for the slaves put their belongings. Tarchon showed Felis where his would be. It was empty. Behind a curtain were private baths stocked with all manner of oils, soaps, lotions, and salves. If they ever needed anything, they need only ask the guards outside.

With far less space to show off, the tour was over quickly and Tarchon led him back out to the common area to meet his fellow slaves. They all introduced themselves. Felis used the hand signals he had developed over the years to introduce himself with his trainer serving as an interpreter.

“Should he _really_ be serving out Exalted Master like that,” one of the slaves asked only to be shushed by those surrounding him. Felis ducked his chin, trying to hide his scar. His breathing, though, that stayed the raspy whisper it had always been. It sounded louder than usual in the uncomfortable silence.   

Tarchon raised an eyebrow. “Felis is one of the most promising pupils I’ve ever trained. His-,” Tarchon paused, searching for the right word. “His _condition_ has been explained to the Exalted Crown Prince who said he would still be delighted to have Felis in his retinue. As such, I hope _all_ of you treat him with the respect he deserves.” The slave who had spoken looked properly abashed to Felis’ delight.

From then on it was a waiting game. The First Night started after dinner was over and not a moment sooner. As the hour drew near, Felis listened attentively to the advice his fellow slaves gave him about their Exalted Master.

He was jarred from his mental recitation of his Exalted Master’s likes and dislikes by Tarchon’s voice summoning him. It was time. The light dinner Felis had eaten felt like rocks in his stomach.  

Felis was sure his heart was going to fly right out of his chest it was fluttering so fast. Either that or he would vomit before he even reached his destination.

This time when Tarchon stopped it was before doors that were once again gilded with a carved lion head on them. This lion though had a crown carved on his head and sun beams radiating out from behind it. Tarchon gave a respectful knock and waited.

“Enter.”

The words shot straight into Felis’ heart and stopped it. The owner of that voice, _his Exalted Master,_ lay just beyond that door. The gravity of the situation hit him and his knees sagged.

When the doors were drawn inwards, Felis had already sunk to his knees, head bowed and hands on his thighs. He didn’t dare cast even the quickest glance upward, his eyes were locked firmly at his Master’s feet.

It was the Exalted Crown Prince who spoke the ritual words first.

“Good evening, First Trainer. Why are you here this evening?”

“I come to present only the finest of slaves to you, Crown Prince Damianos,” Tarchon replied.

“Oh, and what makes him better than _all_ the others?”

“Never before have I seen a more talented kithara player in all my years. This slave also excels at gymnastics and is quite flexible. He is also quite a capable writer.” A blush bloomed high on Felis’ cheeks as Tarchon listed his talents

Felis knew the next question was to be directed at him and felt a wave of fear wash over him.

“And what name does such a talented slave go by?” The Crown Prince asked with a gentle voice.

Felis shuffled forward on his knees and tilted his head up but only dared look high enough to see his Exalted Master’s chin. _This slave will be called whatever you wish him to be called Exalted Master,_ he said through his gestures. Those were as follows: gesturing to his whole body, pressing his palm over his heart then proffering it to his Master with a sweeping gesture, and then making a circle above his head by joining his thumbs and forefingers together to indicate the crown of his Exalted Master.

 _Let no one say I didn’t try,_ Felis thought as he waited for either of the men above him to speak. This had been the moment he’s been dreading most. Tarchon had spent countless hours reassuring him that the Crown Prince knew of his muteness and was accepting of it. However, it was one thing to be told that, it was another thing entirely to be in the situation where those words would be put to the test. A test which would determine his whole future.  

Damen took a deep breath while Felis held his. “I’d like for this slave to tell me his name, for I wish that he’d keep it.”

 _My name is Felis, Exalted Master._ Felis placed his palm on his chest again first. Then moved his hand up to make a quick [gesture](https://www.google.com/webhp?sourceid=chrome-instant&ion=1&espv=2&ie=UTF-8#q=asl+for+cat&*) as though pulling on one side of a beard to mean Felis. And finally the motion to evoke the idea of a crown.

As they had planned, Tarchon interpreted for the Crown Prince. “My name is Felis, Exalted Master.”

“A fine name for a fine slave,” Damen replied as though this was no different than any other First Night ceremony. Felis let his shoulders sag by a fraction in utter relief.

“Rise Felis. Attend me.” His Exalted Master bid him enter, _there’s no turning back now._ Felis didn’t allow himself to spare a glance to Tarchon. He crossed the threshold into the room, ready for his First Night.

The thud of the doors closing startled him back to his training. Quickly Felis dropped to his knees.

A soft chuckle sounded from in front of him. A large hand slowly came into his field of vision. It reached out to nudge his chin up. Felis stared into the rich amber eyes of his Exalted Master before his remembered he should be looking away.

“None of that Felis, not tonight of above all nights,” the Crown Prince chided.

Felis returned his gaze apprehensively. The rest of the face was as breathtaking as the eyes. It was framed by dark waves of hair that brushed wide shoulders. The Crown Prince had tied it back but some little wisps had escaped over the course of the day. A dark shadow of beard defined his jaw and drew attention to his full lips, attention Felis was more than willing to give. _These are the lips that have dreamt of kissing_ , he realized.

“You’re beautiful,” the Crown Prince said as he ran Felis’ fine hair though his calloused fingers. His hands were large. _Better suited to swordsmanship then statecraft,_ Felis thought.

The hand traveled down his arm to cradle both his hands. When the Crown Prince’s other hand lay on top, both of Felis’ were engulfed. With gentle strength, Felis was drawn upward onto shaky legs. Standing up, he came only to his Master’s shoulders.

He was lead not to the bed, as he had anticipated, but to a low couch. When his Prince sat, Felis made to kneel by his legs on the floor, only to be stopped by kind words.

“Sit with me so I may see all of you.” The Crown Prince guided him to sit by his side, their bodies facing each other.

Felis did his best to arrange himself properly but he seemed to have forgotten all his rigorous training the moment he had locked eyes with his Exalted Master. So he went back to the basics: head down and hands on his lap. Even without looking, he could feel the amber eyes on him, running up and down his body. Felis tucked his chin tighter and calmed his raspy breathing as best he could.

But he was powerless to stop his chin from being tilted up for the Crown Prince’s inspection. Tears pricked at his eyes as a thumb was stroked along the fine pale scar, exposed where the gold ribbon had shifted.

The Crown Prince laughed softly. “When I told my brother I was being given a scared slave he thought I was mad to accept and should punish Tarchon for even suggesting it. I must say I was quite surprised when my First Trainer told me about you Felis. He told me of your condition of course, though it must have slipped his mind to mention your Veretian blood.” His last words hung heavy in the air.

Felis froze. His Exalted Master’s hand was on his neck. All the cruel words against his forgotten homeland sprung to the forefront of his mind. _Am I to die here?_

The hand shifted towards his eye and Felis did nothing to stop its descent. It wiped away unsprung tears. “Now, now I don’t blame you. Hush now, no tears tonight little Felis,” the Crown Prince whispered softly and cupped his face.

Felis let out a soft sigh and leaned into the touch. _His hands are so warm,_ he noticed.

Ever so slowly the Crown Prince started to lean in and tilt Felis’ head. “Let me kiss away those tears tonight?”

Felis nodded, _this is it._ He leaned in and met his Exalted Master halfway, with open eyes. There was so much to take in the moment their lips met.

The way his short beard scratched Felis’ cheeks with its wiry hair. How his long dark lashes fanned out against the apples of his cheeks. And his lips, oh _his lips!_

Though they only brushed Felis’ for but a moment, the hottest ember from a fire seemed trapped in the Crown Prince’s lips when they pressed against his own. It was a chaste kiss –no tongue or biting- but oh the heat it promised. It melted away the insecurities Felis had been feeling.

When their lips parted Felis was wonderstruck: he’d never thought kissing would be like that.

His Master stared at him and hummed thoughtfully. “Do you have a gesture for ‘stop’? I only ask so if you start to feel discomfort or pain we can readjust.”  

Felis nodded. He pushed his palms out away from his body while shaking his head: _stop._

“I’ll be sure to not hold your wrists down then,” the Crown Prince said with a wink as he wrapped his arms around Felis to draw him closer.

Much to Felis’ delight, the kissing started up again. He let the Crown Prince take the lead as he had far more experience. When his tongue ran along Felis’ bottom lip, he opened his mouth to let it in.

The Prince’s hands were never still. They combed through his hair to tangle in it and the ribbon ends from his neck. Their heat sent goosebumps radiating out from his spine when it caressed his back where the chiton didn’t cover. Felis felt something spark in him when fingers fiddled with the hem of his chiton.

This time Felis followed when his Exalted Master pulled away, wanting to chase the feeling that had stemmed from the kisses. He went cross-eyed trying to look at the finger placed on his lips to stop his searching. The Crown Prince laughed.

“I like your eagerness Felis, but I’m hungry.” The abrupt change of pace brought Felis back to his senses: he wasn’t just here to kiss the Crown Prince.

He looked around the room. Across from the couch was a small desk with a platter of food laid out. Using all the grace he had developed over the years, he rose smoothly from the couch and padded over to the desk.

Of the spread, Felis selected a few of the lighter pastries and dried apricots. With a smaller plate held carefully with two hands, he glided back to his waiting Exalted Master.

Slowly, so as not to jostle the food, he knelt by the Prince’s feet and held the tray aloft.

Its weight gradually decreased as the food was eaten. In a rare treat, his master proffered an apricot to Felis, who gladly took it with careful lips. He wouldn’t mind more kissing instead though, if he was being honest with himself.

When all the food was gone, Felis stood up and returned the plate to its original spot on the desk then went back to his Master to await further instruction.

“Had I thought about it ahead of time I’d have sent for a kithara so I could hear you play. Oh well, maybe tomorrow night.” The Crown Prince spoke from above where Felis had knelt.

Absentmindedly he started stroking Felis’ hair again. Felis found himself relaxing at the soft touch, his eyes closing in peaceful bliss.

It seemed to have the same effect on the Crown Prince: he slouched back against the couch with a sigh and stretched out his legs. “Put away my sandals for me Felis,” he said in a lazy voice.

Keeping on his knees, Felis shuffled around to face his Exalted Master. Rather than go straight for the ties at the top of his calves, Felis ran both his hands up them one at a time, starting from the ankle and trailing up the calves -years of training had made them firm and defined.

When Felis finally placed them by the wardrobe, he took a small vial of oil back with him from a wash-stand. With it, he started to give his Master a foot rub. If the Crown Prince wanted to play a waiting game with food, Felis would play along too with his own waiting game.

As his ankle was rolled and his feet massaged, the Crown Prince started to moan at how good it felt. Felis was surprised, _is this all it takes to make the Exalted Crown Prince unravel, a foot rub? No one mentioned that._

At the end of massaging both legs up to the knee, Felis decided to play coy. He wanted his kisses! To spur things along, he placed a kiss on the inside of each knee, the hem of his Master’s chiton brushing his nose.

“Felis!” This time he didn’t hesitate to lock eyes with the Crown Prince. His dark pupil had blown wide, only a sliver of warm amber was visible. Felis let a small smile play on his lip and ducked his eyes. He knew how to play this game and win.

Slowly he crawled into the Prince’s lap. While tilting his head, Felis tapped a finger to his lips. _More kisses, please?_ Even without an interpreter, the Prince understood.

This time the kissing was heated. Fire spread from Felis’ lips and down to his gut. Arousal started to stir within him and tonight he would _finally_ get to feel what it was like to chase it down.

At some point during their kissing, his chiton had slipped off his shoulder to pool around his waist. With more pale skin exposed, the Prince started to explore. His kisses traveled ever downward.

When he sucked and bit at Felis’ jaw, the blond thought he would spill in that moment. He groaned deep in his chest, which only seemed to egg his Exalted Crown Prince onwards.

“I love-,” the Prince broke off to suck another mark onto Felis’ pale skin. “I love to hear my bedmates,” he said in a husky voice. Felis obliged him by making one of the few sounds he could produce, a loud gasp. He was rewarded with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen on his Exalted Master’s face.

Felis lay back, the Crown Prince slightly over him. His smile transformed from one of pure joy to something more devilish: he rolled his hips against Felis’. That got Felis’ approximation of a high keen.

Then the Prince’s hot mouth was all over him again, spotting his chest with kisses. All the while he rolled his hips. It was when a searing kiss was placed on a pert nipple and a hand fisted in his hair and their cocks aligned that Felis spilled for the first time since the Gardens _ages_ ago.

Pleasure the likes of which had been beyond his imagination coursed through him. His mind blanked as wave after wave of it crashed over him, relentless.

When he felt like he could think again, Felis became aware of his Exalted Master’s soft voice talking to him.

“Felis. Oh little Felis, are you back with me?” Groggily, Felis nodded. _Though maybe not entire,_ he thought as his head flopped back, exhausted.

He pouted when the Crown Prince stood up, it had been so warm under him. Before he could make his unhappiness known, he was scooped up by his Master with ease.

 _This is nice,_ he thought, surrounded by thick strong arms and a defined chest. It all radiated the burning heat Felis couldn’t get enough of.

Unceremoniously the Prince plopped Felis on the bed. He bounced. His Exalted Master undid the clasps holding his cloak and chiton in place. It pooled to the ground on the side of the bed. Felis stared unashamedly.

Of course, he’d seen other nude bodies, many times in fact, but this was different. For one the Crown Prince was quite a bit larger than anyone he’d seen, in _every_ aspect. He nerves starting to build again, Felis scooched back on the bed as the Prince crawled onto it.

Felis sat against the wall at the head of the bed, his legs between his Master’s.

“You won’t be needing this,” he said, tugging at Felis’ chiton.

Making sure to grab the glass vial, he undid his chiton and tossed it aside to lay with his Master’s. The lion pin clacked against the stone floors.

“Show me your sign for ‘stop’ again Felis,” the Prince asked. And Felis did. “Use it whenever you need, I want this to be as good for you as it is for me.” Felis felt reassured with the knowledge his Master cared for his comfort in all aspects and went so far as to tell his slaves they could tell him to stop at any time.

Gently, the Crown Prince pried the oil vial out of Felis’ death grip. Needing something to hold, his hands clutched the blankets until his knuckles turned white. But his Exalted Master didn’t put the oil to use right away, instead, he went back to kissing, something Felis was all too delighted to do.

He unlocked his fingers and wrapped his arms around his Prince’s broad shoulders as he relaxed into the playful kisses. Just as his master played with his hair, so too did Felis. And with their legs tangled together, from their hips down, it wasn’t long before Felis could feel himself starting to rouse again.

Against his lips, the Prince whispered, “Are you ready to move on?” Felis nodded.

The Prince shifted and Felis made to roll onto his stomach. “Ah, no. I’d like to see your face and as I understand it, me being under you would make it easier for your first time,” his Master explained has he positioned their bodies as he wanted: Felis straddling his hips.

“Here hold this,” the Crown Prince said as he gave Felis the uncorked oil. He dipped his fingers in and moved his hand around behind Felis. With his other, he cupped Felis’ face and drew him down for a gentle kiss.

“Remember, you can make me stop at any time.”

With that said, the slick fingers started to press against Felis. The feeling of another there was strange. It had taken Felis a long while to open for _one_ of his own fingers, it would take at least three to fit the Prince’s cock.

But the Crown Prince stayed patient and took the time to reassure Felis he was doing well. When his finger did finally slip into the first knuckle, Felis let out a sigh of relief and buried his face in his Master’s shoulder. _I can do this_ , he repeated to himself.

Emboldened by his success, his Exalted Master oiled a second finger and slowly started to try and open Felis to take it. His body wasn’t having it though despite how much Felis tried to convince it otherwise.

In a reassuring tone, the Crown Prince said, “Felis it’s okay.” With a smile, he added, “We have _all_ night.”

So he dropped back down to one finger, which felt far thicker to Felis than _his_ one finger had ever been. It took time, but Felis’ body opened up enough to take the full length of the finger. It brushed against a bundle of nerves inside him.

Felis jolted forward, _away, away, away,_ from the finger and _away, away, away_ from its owner. There was the tinkle of shattering glass that sounded like a clap of thunder to Felis. He scrabbled off the bed, a shadowy figured rose from it and followed him.

The room was too dark. _Where are the candles? Why is there no fire?_ Only the light of the moon shown through tall windows, casting a sickly cold light over everything. And yet the figure remained in shadow, drawing ever near.

Felis retreated back as the Shadow Man loomed large. One of his shadow tendrils shot out and bit his foot: Felis opened his mouth in a silent cry of pain as he fell on his bottom. Pain shot up his spine, radiating from the base.

He didn’t want that. He scrambled _away, away, away_ until he couldn’t go any further. Dark walls loomed all around and the Shadow Man kept coming. Slowly, blackness encroached on the edges of Felis’ vision and the Shadow Man started to garble words at him.

Felis cowered, praying for it to all go _away, away, away_.

***

Damen had been looking forward to today. Today was the day he’d be getting a new pleasure slave, the mute one he’d been told about all those years ago. He’d worried about how they’d communicate, something he felt _very_ important in bed, until Tarchon explained the ingenious hand language the slave had made up.

When the knock on his door _finally_ came, Damen sprung up and rushed to the door. He caught himself, though, he had an image to uphold after all.

At the sight of the slave kneeling behind Tarchon though, Damen almost forgot what he was supposed to say. Never before had he seen so fair a slave. His hair shone like polished gold and his skin like moonlight.

The rare times the slave, Felis, looked up, Damen felt his breath stolen away. His eyes were blue like the sky on a cloudless day after it had stormed the previous night. An air of nervousness was trapped in them that Damen promised himself he would make gone by the end of the night.  

Saying the final words, “Attend me,” came from his lips as a benediction. Tonight above all nights, a slave should be treated tenderly and with the utmost respect. Their lives had been spent in preparation for this, Damen fancied they trained with as much intensity for it as he trained to fight. As such, they deserved to have all their hard work pay off.

So, any time his darling Felis seemed nervous, Damen was more than happy to kiss the feeling away.

After many years of First Night, Damen had learned that it paid off to not rush. Building tension worked in both directions and a food break was the perfect opportunity to test other skills the slave possessed. Felis performed perfectly.

Felis’ forwardness surprised him. The kisses to the inside of his knees after that exquisite foot-rub and then crawling into his lap; this slave certainly had a fire in him!

What really riled Damen up though was _hearing_ his lovers. Hearing Felis had been a blessing to be treasured and cultivated with more kisses. And seeing him tumble over the edge of pleasure from nothing more than kisses and a bit of friction had made happy pride coil in Damen’s heart. He _loved_ bringing his lovers to orgasm.

The reactions on First Nights were always the best; Felis was no exception. He’d gone boneless and for a moment Damen had worried he’d passed out. As that was not the case, Damen felt it time to move onto the bed. So he scooped his precious slave to his chest and carried him over.

Once again, he had to kiss way Felis’ nervousness, not that he minded. With a final reassurance that he could stop at any time, Felis allowed himself to be maneuvered gently into position.

Damen knew the slaves practiced taking fingers but that nerves over the First Night made their bodies resistant so he approached the task with a level head. It was about letting another body feel comfortable. When two fingers wouldn’t fit, Damen had no problem dropping back down to one.

That was when Felis had spooked. He shot forward to pull off of his finger. The glass vial he’d been holding was flung onto the ground where it shattered. Felis dove off the bed to follow it.

For every step towards him Damen took, Felis took two backward. Fear reflected in his eyes now. Damen tried talking to him in a calm voice like Felis was a scared animal. That didn’t help. To his alarm, Felis stepped on the shattered glass and fell down.

The closer Damen got, the louder and raspier Felis’ breathing became. When the slave had cornered himself his chest was heaving in and out rapidly, trying to suck in large gulps of air. It wasn’t enough. His body slumped over in a dead faint. Damen rushed in to scoop him up.

He could feel hot blood against his skin where it dripped from Felis’ foot.

Once he was safely on the couch, Damen called for his guards whom he ordered to fetch the physician.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's tone is different from the past chapters but I hope you still liked this chapter and plan to read the next one. Don't worry, there'll be comfort to balance out the hurt, I promise.  
> Comments>Kudos  
> [ My tumblr ](http://www.the-teller-of-tales.tumblr.com)


	9. Bonds Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Obligatory apology for not posting when promised. Excuse. Promise to be better next time.*
> 
> Ok but in all seriousness, I leave in less than a month and have to make it through finals without a dead week where I could avoid studying by writing fanfiction. That being said, it is still my goal to finish this before I leave. Like I said though, if it gets to mid-May and this isn't done, don't expect anything from me until mid-August at the earliest.   
> I'll still be lurking though, hoping for comments here. Or on [ my tumblr ](http://www.the-teller-of-tales.tumblr.com)

A soft light surrounded him. The dusty scent of horses was heavy in the warm air. A voice he knew in his heart belonged to his brother called to him from just out of sight.

“Lau-ris!” His brother’s voice slipped down an octave and the light cut out. “Felis! Felis, can you hear me?”

Felis startled when he woke up, trying to regain his bearings. Candles dotted the room, casting a warm glow on the Crown Prince’s face. He looked relieved.

“You gave me quite a scare Felis. How does your foot feel?” At the mention of his foot, Felis suddenly registered the sharp itchy pain that was making itself known on his right insole.

He scooched up on the bed until he was sitting propped up against the mound of soft pillows. Looking down, he could see a length of gauze wrapped around his foot. An old man puttered around, mumbling to himself about the wiles of youth, putting the final touches on the bandage.

“And what about your chest? The Crown Prince said you were breathing funny.” The prince in question shifted aside as the old man moved up towards Felis’ head.

Taking a moment, Felis took an inventory of any other aches and pains. His head hurt like a hammer was knocking away at the front of his skull. His throat felt a bit scratch but not painful. In his gestures, he relayed the information to the man he could only assume to be the physician.

The man turned away with a nod, glasses clinked as he mixed a potion. The Crown Prince took his space and half sat on the bed. Gently, he reached out a hand to caress Felis’ cheek. Felis only saw caring in his kind gold eyes.

No words passed between them.

The physician interrupted their moment. “Here you are Felis, take this whole draft when you return to the slave quarters, it will ease your headache and help you sleep.”

At the mention of returning to his new quarters, Felis looked down in shame, breaking eye-contact with the Exalted Crown Prince. His whole life started to crumble around him, _what am I to do now?_ The best he could hope for now was to be a private bath attendant, cast out of the Crown Prince’s bed in disgrace.

Yet, when Felis made a move to get off the bed on wobbly legs, his Exalted Master pushed him back down.

The Crown Prince took the vial from the physician saying, “Felis will be spending tonight with me, as is proper for a First Night.”

The physician tried to backtrack to cover up the embarrassment that Felis could see clearly written on his face. “Of course, of course, Exalted Crown Prince. I was only thinking of the slave’s health.” At the hard look still leveled at him by the prince, he made a hasty retreat out of the room, leaving Felis alone.

He could see the Crown Prince’s knuckles were tight around the bottle. The prince heaved a great sigh, dropping his shoulders and turning back to face Felis.

“I’m not casting you aside, dear Felis. We will just have to work on those nerves of yours.” He set the bottle down on the nightstand and settled in bed next to Felis. Their bodies were separated by layers of blankets. Felis shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, wanting to give the Crown Prince more room. With a sigh, his Master rolled onto his chest and turned his head towards Felis.

Not wanting to be higher than his Master, Felis slid down the bed until he too was laying down. His fingers curled around the hem of the blanket, desperate for something to hold on to. The prince slowly reached out and played with a bit of his fine hair.

Behind his amber eyes, Felis could see him working out what he wanted to say.

After a pause, the Crown Prince spoke. “You gave me quite a scare there dearest Felis. Your eyes were so full of fear, _at me_.” He spoke the last words with an air of guilty disbelief. “Trust me when I say I _never_ wanted that to happen. You are mine, to look after and care for. We will go slower next time, and work our way up to sex.”

Relief glowed brightly in Felis’ heart, _there is still a place for me_. He preferred not to dwell on thoughts of the next time, choosing to live in the soft moment with his Exalted Crown Prince. In a feat of daring, he brought the prince’s fingers from his hair to tap his own lips. _Kiss?_ A radiant smile spread across his Master’s face.

Still separated by layers of blankets, they exchanged soft kisses, the Crown Prince treating Felis tenderly. When the prince pulled away, it was to retrieve the sleeping draft. Felis took it without question, his head still pounding.

Before he drifted off, the prince’s strong arms encircled him and drew him close under the light blankets. His solid mass was a comforting warmth against Felis’ back. A feather light kiss to the nape of his neck was all Felis needed to be sent tumbling into dream land.

***

When he awoke, Felis was still in those strong arms, though now his nose was pressed in the crook of the Crown Prince’s neck. By the soft puffs of breath on his ear, Felis could tell the prince was still fast asleep. Carefully, he wormed out of the embrace and studied his sleeping Master.

A shaft of early morning sunlight caught in the curls of his dark hair, igniting them from within. In sleep, he looked so much smaller, less like a god and more like a man.

Felis didn’t know how long he lay there in the still morning. There was a fragile serenity he didn’t want to break by waking his prince. Only when the Crown Prince began to stir did Felis make a move. It was to kiss his prince fully awake.

“Mmph…good morning to you too Felis,” the Exalted Crown Prince slurred out between sleepy kisses. Emboldened by his reactions, Felis slotted a leg between his legs. He swallowed his Master’s groan with a kiss, his lips turned up in a crafty smile. It was only proper after all, the Crown Prince hadn’t gotten his promised release the previous evening.

One of his hands tangled in Felis’ hair to keep their lips together. The other reached down to hook under his knee, keeping Felis’ thigh in the perfect position for him to rut against.

When the Prince’s lips left his own to moan and grunt, Felis knew the Crown Prince was close. He trailed hot kisses down the Prince’s neck. At the hollow of his neck, Felis sucked and nibbled in hopes of leaving a mark his Master would not soon forget. He was possessive in that way, he hadn’t been ejected from the retinue and he wanted no one to forget it.

When hot spend from his Prince’s cock hit the base of his own, Felis felt a sense of accomplishment wash over him. He hadn’t let the events of the previous night haunt him into the warmth of the early dawn.

Felis rolled onto his back, heedless of his own neglected length -still hard- nestled in the valley of his hip. The Crown Prince was far more observant. Under Felis’ watchful eye, he coated his fingers in his own seed and slicked Felis’ cock with it.

When the Prince’s hand started to move, Felis closed his eyes in delight and gave his best rumbly moan, deep in his chest. A hot mouth suddenly appeared on his neck, at that his eyes opened wide and he peaked silently. The mouth and hand didn’t disappear right away as he was coaxed through his orgasm.  

Turning his head to the side, Felis was greeted by the smiling face of his Master, cheeks flush from their morning tumble.

“Such a pleasant wake-up call deserves a prize, my sweet Felis,” he said, still beaming. He got off the bed and Felis made to follow, only to be pushed back against the pillows. He really did want to move though, _I don’t want all this to dry on me_ , he thought, looking at the evidence of their pleasure on his stomach and thighs.

The Prince knelt down and rummaged under the bed. He let out a triumphant cry and stood up, proffering an ornate wood box to Felis.

Upon opening it, his mouth dropped open and tears of joy pricked at the corners of his eyes. Inside lay beautiful gold filigree [cuffs](http://www.realstylenetwork.com/fashion-and-style/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2012/10/julie-tuton-filigree-bracelet.jpg) with a matching collar. Reverently he danced his fingers across their fine spun metal -the work of hours of labor by a master craftsman. His were uniquely beautiful, for no two sets were the same. Designs like suns repeated all around the cuffs. The collar had the same, with an egg-shaped sapphire hiding its lock at the hollow of his throat. All of it would fit flush to his skin with the measurements he had provided weeks before.

Felis turned the box back to his Master, his silent approval at them shone brightly in his blue eyes. The Crown Prince was smiling again. He quickly did away with the gold ribbons that had become loose in the night -they were cast aside without a glance.  

Carefully, he took one of Felis’ hands and slid the cuff up it, closing its latch. He then did the same with the other.

As he brought the collar around the back of Felis’ head he spoke. “With these, I take you into my service Felis. May its bond be ever-lasting. May you look at them each day, feel their weight upon your skin, and know you are wanted and beloved by a Master who wants no harm to come to you. May you see them and find happiness, sweet Felis.” On his final breath, he snapped the collar closed and placed a tender kiss on Felis’ forehead.  

***

Damen couldn’t believe his luck. One of the prettiest slaves in a long while was in his bed, but untouchable. Sure the physician reassured him that Felis would be back up in no time, but that didn’t help. The damage had been done, though what damage that was beyond Felis’ foot was unknown to Damen. The closest he could compare it too was how some men could train all hours of the day but faint at their first real battle, or even the sight of blood.

Looking down at the motionless figure, Damen hoped it was a fear he could help Felis overcome. Sex was something he really, _really_ enjoyed and loved sharing with people. He didn’t see sex as the only use of a slave, far from it, but it was a nice way to end the day, for _all_ parties involved, in his mind.

A pained twitch from Felis drew Damen back to the present, the physician had moved on to bandaging his feet.  

Gently he shook him, calling out, “Felis, Felis,” in an attempt at quickening his waking. It worked. But then he was pushed aside by the physician so he could do his job. He couldn’t leave soon enough in Damen’s mind, especially when he suggested Felis would be leaving before the night was over.

Damen could already see anxiety rising up in Felis’ lovely blue eyes. _Now that doesn’t belong there at all._ His soft words of reassurance got him a request for a kiss good-night, a request he was more than happy to fulfill. As he settled into bed with Felis in his arms, Damen couldn’t help but wish for a sleep potion of his own as his mind chased itself in circles, replaying Felis’ terror in his mind.

Waking up to a kiss had been pleasant, rutting against Felis’ thigh and then getting him off had been even more so. Wanting to prolong Felis’ afterglow, Damen took that as his moment to produce the gold cuffs and collar that would solidify Felis’ position in the royal harem. They were a promise that bound Felis to him, a bond Damen would never willingly break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are entering the homestretch if my original outline has anything to say on the matter.


	10. A Letter from Vere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some plot (feat. porn) in exchange for the long wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> France and Belgium were fun. Actually, what I did in France was fun. What I did in Belgium was literally a dream come true. 
> 
> Mid-August?? Hahaha. At least I used my time wisely and built up some buffer. I also made outlines for chapters 10-16 (the end) but it's already grown to 18 and will probably grow more. So we may not be in the homestretch as I had thought. Oh well, more for us!
> 
> I'm super thankful for everyone who's stuck with me this long and who pick this back up. Also, welcome anyone who's new.

When not attending his Master, Felis enjoyed wandering the palace, usually with Kallias by his side. As personal slaves to the Exalted princes, they had the freedom to go where they wished and there were so _many_ places to explore in the castle. Kallias liked the flower gardens best and always stopped to pluck a daffodil for Erasmus. Felis loved the stables, filled with fine horses who would submit to muzzle pats in exchange for a handful of oats.

Sometimes they would slip off to the training grounds to say hello to Erasmus. Though, with how many questions about the Crown Prince he asked, Felis tried not to linger too long. _Besides, the training will prepare you quite well,_ he insisted to ease he friend’s nerves.

In the months after his First Night, he had been called to spend the night with the Prince only a handful of times. Not out of any sense of inadequacy, his Exalted Master assured him. Felis had to agree, the Exalted Prince had plenty of other members of the retinue to sleep with, along with any willing body who caught his eye.

One body in particular if the gossip, and Felis’ own eyes, were to be believed was Lady Jokaste. She had made her formal debut to the court a few years back from what he’d gleaned and ever since then the Crown Prince had shown great interest in her.

However, it was only recently that she had started being seen leaving his chambers early in the morning. That fact was one Felis could attest to personally, having been the one to bring the Crown Prince’s breakfast and set out his clothes for the day while the Lady lounged about in their disheveled bed on a few occasions.

On nights none of the bed slaves were called to lie with the prince, gossip flew thick and fast all night. It was only worse if someone found out it was indeed Jokaste whom he was sharing his night with. They all had their own opinion of her and wanted their Master happy above all else.  

Felis had nothing against her. She was a high-ranking lady of the court. He had no right to hold something against her. Though, maybe, just maybe, he could hold something against her if it would hurt his Master. Was that allowed? Felis wasn’t sure.

He saw how the Crown Prince saw the sun in her hair and the sky in her eyes. She was his world. And the Lady Jokaste returned those feelings from what Felis saw in her small smiles and tinkling laugh. It did his heart glad to see his Master so deeply in love with someone.

Many time Felis had been completely ignored as he prepared the prince’s evening bath. His Master’s attention was often consumed by writing notes to his lover. Seeing his master so happy only served to bolster Felis’ spirits. _A happy slave may make a happy home, but a happy master made a happy slave._ That last bit was something Felis had never heard spoken aloud but he felt it in his soul.

Not that he was unhappy by any stretch of the word. He wore his lion pin and cuffs with pride. They proved he was valued and held an important place. He served to make the Exalted Crown Prince happy, and what could be more important than his happiness?

His foot had healed well and no longer pained him. Only a tiny scar remained, nearly invisible against his pale skin. His breathing had improved slightly which was nice, even if his throat hurt a little more than normal. It was nothing a request for extra honey in his tea couldn’t fix.

A request that proved especially needed when he and the Crown Prince had discovered his lack of a gag reflex a few nights ago. Felis smiled to himself thinking of that night. He’d never made his Exalted Master peak so quickly. And of course, he had been so eager to reciprocate afterward. Many of Felis’ dreams now featured the Crown Prince, on his knees, his eyes blown wide with lust as they had been that night.

***

His Master lay back on the mass of pillows, his legs open for Felis to kneel between them. Strong arms kept their chests pressed together as their mouths met in heated kisses.

Wiggling enough to free the tight hold, Felis started to trail down the tight expanse of the crown prince’s chest. A teasing bite to his nipple had the prince bucking his hips and tangling a hand in Felis’ hair.

When he started to scooch backward and travel ever downwards, his name and demands for him to suck his cock started to fall from his Master’s mouth. A proud smile grew on Felis’ face, one he hid by pressing more kisses to the prince’s inner thighs. Not wanting to disobey such an exciting order, he went right for the hard cock by his nose.

Lacking any sort of strategy, Felis sucked at it while rubbing his tongue along the vein on its underside. If the bucking and cursing coming from his Exalted Master were anything to go by, he’d say he was doing a fine job. That happy pride that came from fulfilling his duty of serving grew and grew.

His Master hadn’t even fully finished, his seed splashing Felis’ chest, as he threw himself forward onto Felis. Before he knew what was happening, his cock was enveloped in a wet heat. He didn’t last long under the expert attention by the crown prince.  

When he had come up from between Felis’ legs, the Exalted Prince had had such a self-satisfied grin plastered all over his face. Felis had covered his face with his hands in embarrassment, a small noise escaping his lips.

“I think that’s that loudest you’ve been yet Felis,” the Crown Prince had teased him. Despite it being true, Felis couldn’t help but curl up to hide the goofy smile playing on his lips. When his Master talked like that, it set his heart aflutter. He didn’t stay curled up for long. The prince had maneuvered him flat against his chest, his head lying on his well-muscled arm. Felis scrunched his eyes shut as light kisses peppered his forehead and cheeks.

They fell asleep like that, Felis nestled in the warm cage of the prince’s arms and their legs tangled together.

When he awoke, Felis was greeted by a cold room. The fire had gone out. Carefully, so as not to wake his sleeping Master, he slipped out from under the blanket. The tile was cold on his feet as he made his way over to the fireplace. Poking around in it proved futile, there was nothing he could fan back to life.

Felis set about to make the fire as silently as possible. The only problem came when he started looking for flint to light it with. There was none in the room and all the candles were out.

Soft rumbling snores assured him the prince was still sound asleep. _Though by the look of the sky, I don’t know for how much longer,_ thought Felis as he caught the first blush of the dawn sky through the large windows. Making up his mind to get the fire going so his Master wouldn’t be subject to a cold room first thing in the morning, Felis left with a plan to go to the kitchen. _Surely that fire never goes out,_ he rationalized.

Passing through the royal apartments, Felis saw another figure out walking the halls. That wasn’t particularly uncommon yet this one clearly wasn’t a guard or a fellow slave. A long hooded cloak covered their form as they left the wing that led to Prince Kastor’s rooms. Felis kept to the side, his eyes cast down, as the person passed. Looking up, a shimmer of gold caught his eye. Even under a hooded cloak, the long golden hair could only mean one person. Lady Jokaste.

A cold feeling crept into Felis’ heart and trailed down his spine. What reason would the Lady Jokaste have for visiting Prince Kastor at such an early hour? The morning light creeping in snapped him out of dark thoughts. He still needed to relight the fire.

***

In the weeks that passed since he had seen the Lady Jokaste, Felis had heard no untoward gossip about her from any of the palace slaves or guards. Not even Kallias had brought up anything of her visiting Kastor in the night. He almost thought he had imagined it. It certainly was a more pleasant thought than a possible truth. One that involved deceiving his Exalted Master.

Felis knew his Master would be upset and so he never brought it up for fear of being punished for slandering a fine noble lady. He had no proof and it would be his word, the word of a silent slave, against a noble, a noble who was also the lover of the slave’s master. There was no way he could see the truth coming to light going well.

Until such a time as it was too late, Felis vowed to keep his Exalted Master happy and well cared for. A task happily said and easily done. Not even the foul mood the Crown Prince adopted when a letter from Vere was received saying they wanted to visit Ios to discuss a better peace accord lasted long when Felis set his mind to it.

***

Weeks had passed since Felis’ First Night and Damen was happy to be getting their relationship back on track. Finding out the slave lacked a gag-reflex had certainly helped in his opinion.

Outside of his slaves, Damen was happy to write to Nikandros of how Jokaste had finally accepted his request to officially court her. Even Kastor had given him a sly wink the first night he excused himself from the table soon after her.

It had been at one such dinner that his father announced they had received a request from the King of Vere for an audience to renegotiate the peace treaties. The reasons to do so had been weak in Damen’s opinion, something about family tragedy making for poor negotiating at the time. He didn’t believe it. A snake was always a snake.

It wasn’t up to Damen though, it was up to the Exalted King, who agreed. He only hoped his father’s condition wouldn’t continue to deteriorate. They’d need a strong face while playing host to the Veretians.  

The following day it was announced to the public that Ios would play host to an envoy from Vere in the coming months.


	11. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ios scrambles to get everything done before the Veretians arrive and someone comes to visit.

The castle was a flurry of activity. It didn’t matter what training a slave or servant had received, they were put where help was needed. Restorations and additions were being made to the guest quarters that needed all the abled bodied attention they could get. That was where Felis and the rest of the slaves spent most of the days, helping polish the bronze fixtures and air the linens.

Nothing in the palace was free from the deep clean. Ios was preparing to be shown to the Veretians for the first time decades and everyone wanted to awe them with its beauty. The floors and walls were scrubbed until reflections could be seen in the polished stones. Wall frescos were being repainted, their fresh colors bright and cheery in the long halls Felis ran up and down every day while doing chores. Daring young servants with ropes around their waists dusted the high rafters. Even the stables and kennels were being cleaned, something Felis longed to help with, but he never questioned his orders.

By the end of the day, he was too tired to care about not helping with the horses. His arms would be sore from being piled high with linens or scrubbing for hours on end. He couldn’t deny the energy in the air was contagious though, helping the hours speed by.

In fact, it felt like the days were dwindling down too fast. When the sun shone on the bronze and it gleamed gold, Felis would see flashes of gilt objects flash through his mind. _A memory from Vere?_ The anticipation of seeing someone from his long-forgotten home country was eating away at him.

Kallias and Erasmus did their best to comfort him at the end of the day but they could do nothing to prevent his mind from wandering while he slept. More often than not, he’d jolt away from a dream he couldn’t remember accompanied by feelings he didn’t know the basis for. A few times he had even awoken to tears tracks fresh on his cheeks. Luckily that had never happened on nights he slept with his Exalted Master.

Every day brought news that the Veretians were drawing nearer. Only once had Felis allowed himself a moment to entertain a thought of his memories flooding back, leaving with the Veretians, and finding his real family in Vere. He didn’t allow himself to dwell on those thoughts, not when he had the task of helping make the palace perfect set before him. Any thoughts for his family were brushed aside in an instant when the Exalted Crown prince spoke a few remarks as to how he’d never seen the palace shine so much.

His Master in question had been the busiest Felis had ever seen him. He was helping oversee the new construction to make sure it reflected only the best of what Akielos could offer its guests. Even after dinner, the Crown Prince no longer had free time to write his love letters. Instead, he wrote letters both to the Veretians and his supporters in the far-flung places of Akielos. Only when the candles sputtered in their oil and Felis went to replace them would he lift his head and see how dark the sky had gotten.

Felis could see how it was all weighing down on his Master. His eyes were dull and his shoulders sagged when he thought no one was looking. Though no one said it, everyone still worried over the condition of the king. The palace could look fit for the gods but the loss of the king would be a black mark on their hearts that wouldn’t come out.

More than once Felis had caught his slaves silently supporting one another after they had been with him the whole day. He pitied them. He didn’t know what he would do if his Exalted Master was ever in such a state. He imagined it would feel like his heart and soul were shattering. For what was a slave without a master?  

Seeing their sadness served to motivate Felis to be a perfect reflexion of the Exalted Crown Prince. It made Felis feel alive, holding himself to such a standard. There was no denying he was nervous. Yet it was as though it would be a final test, one where he could show off all his training.

Much to the Crown Prince’s delight, he could be found plucking away at his kithara whenever he got the chance. More often than not, that happened to be in his Master’s room late at night. Both would sink into their work. Felis would close his eyes and let his fingers find the right cords, ears keenly aware of any dissonant note to hammer out with practice. The scratch of a quill on paper would constantly be going in the background, long into the night.

***

Felis was carrying a heap of sheets down to the washerwomen when thundering footsteps caught his attention. Slaves moved to get out of the way as the Exalted Crown Prince sprinted by, an excited look on his worn face. Over the pile in his arms, Felis was able to see him rush down the long hall before he disappeared around a turn. Peeking out the window, he saw his Exalted Master rush down the wide steps of the palace to embrace a similarly large man. Wide grins appeared on both their faces as they talked animatedly. Felis was glad, his Master had been doing so much recently, and he deserved the happiness of a companion.

Buoyed on by his Exalted Master’s smile, Felis continued on with his work for the day. Sure it was harder work than he had ever expected to be doing as a bed slave but it made him happy. Happy to see the palace so lively and beautiful. Everything gleamed, pristine as the day it had been made.

Even the slaves, from common cleaners to those in the Exalted King’s retinue, had been given new chitons with explicit instructions to wear them while the Veretians were residing in the palace. Felis had carefully stowed his pale blue ones away on one of his shelves, not wanting anything to ruin them before they were to be worn.

His foresight proved to have been a good idea that night at dinner. The man whom his Master had met was Nikandros, a noble and childhood friend from near the border. His presence had done wonders for the Crown Prince’s spirit, their drunken laughter could be heard booming down the halls.

Felis and his fellow slaves grinned at one another to see their Exalted Master so happy.

When their Master in question gestured wildly with a goblet of wine, sloshing it across the table, they snickered behind their pitchers of wine and platters piled high with food. It had been a while since he had gotten so drunk.

Felis stepped out of the shadows, his pitcher of wine held carefully while some of the others rushed to get rags to clean up the wine.

He paused a short distance from the table, waiting to pour. The Crown Prince still had the goblet clutched firmly in his swinging hand. Only when he brought it up to take a sip did he notice it was mostly empty. Looking around, his eyes alighted on Felis who was already making his way over. They opened comically wide when he took a step forward, ready to pour.

Before he could though, the Crown Prince took the pitcher out of his hands and plopped it on the table, ignoring the way it wobbled. Strong arms wrapped around him and Felis found himself sitting on the lap of his Exalted Master, in full view of the court. His cheeks blushed and he ducked his head. _What am I supposed to do in a situation like this_?

“Here he is Nikandros, that pretty slave I was telling you about,” his Master said by way of introduction. One of his hands ran through the long ends of Felis’ hair while the other played with the hem of his chiton.

There was a brief pause during which time Felis prayed for a way to get out of this. He could already imagine the good-natured teasing he’d have to endure from his friends. Even Kallias was present to serve Kastor. So Erasmus would be told. Gods, he’d never live this down.

As delightful as it was to be shown such affections from his Master, the public nature of the current spectacle grated on Felis. He preferred the private intimacy with just his Master and the moon as witnesses to their passions.

“Glad to know your tastes are still so singular Damen,” Nikandros responded casually.

 “I’ll have you know Felis is the best kithara player too. In fact,” one arm released its grip on Felis to gesture around at another attendant. “You, get me a kithara. Felis, play for me.” Felis bounced as his Master adjusted to better hold him against his chest. The scent of wine was heavy on his breath, his voice deceptively steady.

Felis let out a sigh of relief. This was something he could do for a crowd. As soon as the instrument was in his hands, he closed his eyes and let his fingers find the melody. For his Exalted Master, he played one of his favorites, one whose lyrics told of a mighty hero who fought a deadly sea-creature with nothing but a length of string from his lover.

When he finished, clapping jolted his eyes open. The Crown Prince was clapping, a pleased smile on his flushed face. “I told you Nikandros.” With that, he turned back to his dinner.

Felis melted back into the shadows, his face on fire and hands shaking. The pitcher was still on the table, an uncrossable distance away. He was used to being invisible, as a slave should be. It had felt like all the eyes of the world had been on him in that moment. Felis shivered at the feeling.

***

Damen felt like he was being crushed under the weight of reality. Ios was preparing to entertain a Veretian ambassador and their entourage for the first time in decades. Everything had to be perfect and it was eating away at him.

Yet he kept up appearances, knowing it did the common people well to see their leaders looking at ease and capable, even when faced with snakes slithering up to them through the grass.

Receiving Nikandros’ message had felt like a blessing from the gods, even if it also served as the two-week warning. The Veretians were almost to Ios’ door and Damen didn’t feel prepared. Luckily his best friend would arrive a few days before them, which gave them time to catch up. He was looking forward to introducing his friend to Lady Jokaste.

 _Maybe if these next few weeks go well, I’ll talk to father about marriage plans to celebrate surviving a visit from Veretians. I think that’ll deserve a celebration._ _Plus it would do his heart well to know I am securing the crown's future._ Damen mulled the idea over in his mind as he counted down the days.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veretians arrive next chapter~


	12. The Arrival

Not a cloud could be seen in the high blue sky the day the Veretians were due to arrive. The sun shone down on the courtyard where the whole of the palace was turned out in their best. Felis and the other slaves looked like exotic bejeweled birds as they flitted about their Exalted Masters, trying to keep them cool as the afternoon stretched on.

Sharp-eyed guards leaned out over the walls, wanting to be the first to spot the visitors. The royals stood, waiting in silence for the rattle of carriage wheels to signal the arrival of the Veretians.

An inescapable tension choked the air. It had only gotten more oppressive as the arrival date had drawn nearer and nearer.

From where his eyes were cast down, Felis could see the tight grip his Master had on his sword. His knuckles were white on its pommel. He knew if he were to look up he’d see a hard set face, prepared for anything. The Exalted king and his sons stood ready to welcome their sworn enemy into their own home with a sword in one hand and a false smile on their face. The three were the proud head of a lion, ready to defend its pride at a moment's notice.

Felis had barely slept as his mind had chased itself in circles the past few nights. He was plagued with flashes of his past life more often than had ever happened before, not that he understood any of what he saw. It all came to him in disjointed flashes; a deep rich laugh, the scent of horses, an exotic sweet he couldn’t name, a high fall on grass.

Yet the thought of leaving the palace, his friends, his Exalted Master was heartbreaking. He loved his home, where his days were carefree and perfect.

His mind wandered so despite his training, Felis couldn’t help but jolt when a soldier turned and cried, “I see them, the Veretians approach!” Whatever fatigue had gripped him left as his mind snapped to attention. His heart beat frantically in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears was deafening. His muscles screamed get up, to run, to do _something_. Yet all he could do was melt back into the shadows with the other slaves, out of the way.

All too soon the rattling of wheels could be heard, accompanied by the brisk one-two, one-two of horses trotting across rock. It grew louder and louder, drawing ever closer. Just when it reached a crescendo, the noises died away. All Felis could hear was the loud breath of the horses and jangling as they shifted in their harnesses.

No one spoke. Felis heard a soft thud and the patter of footsteps before the creak of a door opening.   

“Welcome to Ios, Ambassador,” said the Exalted king.

“Thank you Exalted,” came the reply in a lilting accent. _A Veretian accent,_ Felis realized.

***

Damen squeezed the smooth pommel stone of his sword, trying to dispel his nervous energy. It wasn’t working. To his left, his father stood, proud and tall even when fighting sickness. Damen knew it did their people good to see the Exalted up and able-bodied in the face of Veretian snakes visiting the palace. On his right stood Kastor, looking unperturbed in the slightest. He merely rolled his shoulders when the guard shouted.

Up rolled a gilt carriage drawn by four matching black horses. From the carriage stepped a well-built man. His dark blue coat shimmered as little silver threads woven into its laces caught the sun. Damen wasn’t sure how the ambassador had survived the journey south if all his clothes covered everything, save his face and hands.

Still with his hand on his sword, he turned in to follow his father back into the palace with their new guest. Damen had a feeling today would be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your screams of frustration feed me.


	13. Dinner and a Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold text means Veretian language is being used.

The sounds of splashes, squeals, and chatter bounced off the walls of the baths in the slave quarters as everyone prepared for the first evening entertaining their guests. The guests themselves were the the topic of gossip that was as thick in the room as the steam. Of course the Veretians spoke funny when they tried to speak Akielon, but their language did sound nice. At least, them speaking it sounded better than the little bit Felis had heard his master practicing late at night as he poured over old Veretian texts.

Secretly, Felis was surprised by how much of it he still could understand after not hearing it for years and having only ghost-like memories of his life there. Words came back to him as the Veretians servants passed by on their way to their quarters. With open ears, he heard them remark to one another about the **beautiful palace** and its inhabitants. Most of the gossip he could pick up on seemed to revolve around how much skin was visible on everyone, even those of rank.

None of the slaves could fathom how the Veretian nobles survived the heat in their outfits. The fabric looked stiff and thick, not to mention the only body parts exposed were their face and hands. And how hard it must be to get on and off with all those laces the slaves moaned. Felis couldn’t imagine wearing such clothing after wearing airy chitons his whole life. Some of his were such like gossamer it was like being clothed in water itself he thought to himself as he passed his hands under the water.

After the baths, the slaves donned their new chitons, made especially for this evening. Each shimmered like a jewel as they spun around in turn for the delight of the others.

Felis’ was a light blue with pale gold threads woven along its collar, cuffs, and hem. It matched his eyes perfectly. A fine twisted gold cord cinched it in at his waist. His lion pin was at his right shoulder, keeping the two ends together. Its familiar weight helped ground him. Every time he moved his arm while doing his hair, it would bump against his chest, reminding him that he belonged here.

Excitement filled the air as his companions spoke of their expectations for this evening and their guests. They all wondered what kind of clothes those of the other court would wear and how they would compare. As a reflection of their Exalted Masters’ wealth and power, their beauty was calculated and honed to perfection. Their submission and entertaining skills would also be on display all to impress the visitors. Only the best would do tonight, above all nights.

To distract his mind from the nerves churning his stomach, Felis riffled through his small lacquered wood box that held the accessories his Exalted Master had gifted him with over the time spent in his service. Delicate bracelets, combs, earrings, chains, and all sorts of other jewelry glittered up at him. Each piece was beautiful and told a story that held a special place in his heart.  

After a moment deliberating Felis made his choice: a long, thin gold chord with small flowers of royal blue sapphires strung along its length. His master had given it to him the second time he had gone to his bed. Felis clutched it to his smiling lips as he let his mind flit over the memory of that night. It was the perfect choice. With practiced hands, he wove it into his hair, starting by his temple and curling around with his hair where he worked it into the braid that fell over his shoulder.   

A pot of gold dust was passed around and used liberally by all the slaves. Felis dusted some on his eyelashes, not caring when the excess fell across his cheeks. A brush-full was rubbed into each shoulder and across his collar bones. One of the other slaves had the terrific idea for him to even dust a bit in his hair.

They all agreed the effect was stunning. _Then again, everyone is stunning,_ Felis signed as he looked around. Beauty was easy to find in the royal slave quarters, though usually it was subtle. Now everywhere he looked, his eye was caught by the shine of gold, silver, and a rainbow of bright gems. They were like living works of art and tonight they would be displayed to impress the foreign court.  

Nerves fluttered in Felis’ stomach as he and the other slaves formed a procession to the kitchens of the great dining hall.

He accepted his usual silver pitcher of wine, glad of its heavy, grounding weight. After all, his hands couldn’t shake if he wanted to keep the drink from sloshing about.

One by one, the slaves stepped out into the hall from a shadowy passage recessed in a corner behind the royals. Silently, they took their posts behind Damianos-most exalted prince.

Felis glided forward on silent feet to fill his master’s goblet then melted back into the wall as best he could. Now was not the time to purposely be seen. Now was the time to become part of the beauty of the palace, a living, breathing example of its splendor. Later, he and the other slaves would perform and put every moment of training into the display but first there was the dinner.   

Down the left side of the table sat the nobles of Vere with their laces done up to their chins. Foreign words spilled from their lips in uninterrupted streams, occasionally intermixed with passable Akielon. Felis’ Exalted king spoke slowly and softly, forcing the Veretians to stop and truly focus to hear him. To his right sat Damianos, sipping his wine in silence and only putting it down to pop a piece of food in his mouth. To the right of him sat Kastor who would lean around his brother to engage with the Veretians.

Felis zoned out of trying to understand the myriad of topics the royals discussed in the two tongues and let his training take over. He had become an excellent judge in how empty his master’s wine goblet was and what food to place before him so the transition from one flavor to the next was seamless. His nerves no longer gnawed at his stomach, he felt at ease as he looked at the curly head of hair and wide shoulders in front of him.

When Felis returned from his own dinner of a rich fish stew and watered wine, it made him blush to see how his exalted master’s eye lit up when he drew up to the table to refill his goblet once more.

The night drew on. Candles were lit, wicks were trimmed, and the center was cleared for the party proper to start.

Felis went with his companions back to the kitchen to trade their pitchers and platters for scarves, instruments, and other little props before returning to the dining hall and taking their place in the middle as the first of the entertainment.

As one, they sunk to their knees and bowed to their exalted king and princes. Then it was time for the show.

First, they performed a traditional dance set to drums and tambourines. It was the dance Felis had seen all those years ago and wondered how the slaves didn’t catch their scarves on fire. Now he knew, it was about training and knowing where everyone else would be. They wound each other up in the scarves only to twirl out of them and repeat it again and again. The soft _thwap_ of the end of the scarf curling around an arm or chest melted into the stamp of feet on polished marble floors and the drums.

Felis’ chest heaved as he fought to keep his final pose. Golden sweat glistened the length of his arms and down his chest from where it had run through his gold paint. The claps and cheers that had spiked through the music during the dance rose in pitch around him. Once more, they bowed before drawing back and sitting down to let smaller groups perform.

Kallias sat beside him to wait for their turn together. When it was, Felis stood with his kithara off to the side of his friend. He plucked the first notes of the intro before truly starting the song. It was a classic ballad that told of a noble prince waiting for his loyal captain of the guard to return to his side. Felis had let Kallias pick the song. From the glances he stole to the royal table, his exalted prince was enjoying it.

When the groups had all finished their performances, those tasked with staying to make music for the guests into the wee morning hours began to play a lively tune. A cheer swelled in the crowd as people began to search out dance partners.

Felis made his way up to the high table to return to his place behind his master’s now empty chair. A kitchen boy brought him a pitcher of watered mead and a small tray of candied almonds.

When his master did return, it was with the lady, Jokaste, on his arm. Quickly, a chair was brought for her so that she may sit beside Damianos at the high table. Even with his eyes downcast, Felis could tell his master was feeling the effects of the night. His movements to bring food and drink to his lips were slow and he was slouched low in the chair. Occasionally he would let out a chuckle at something he had seen on the floor before him or something Jokaste would whisper in his ear.

At some point, the alcohol was switched out for thick dark coffee. From the way Damianos spluttered out his first sip, he hadn’t realized the switch had occurred. Only then did he seem to take in what Felis had long noticed.

Rose could be seen on the horizon though the eastern windows. The hall was mainly quiet save for a few snores and the soft clatter of clean-up beginning. Already, the exalted king and most of the Veretian nobles had retired.

Jokaste leaned over and whispered something in Damianos’ ear and pulled back with a sweet smile. Felis’ heart felt funny at the smile his master gave in return. He had still not discussed with anyone how he had seen Jokaste leaving Kastor’s apartments.

He could do nothing but bow as the two left. Felis hoped in his heart his exalted master would have a nice time.  

***

When it was clear his father wasn’t going to stop him from getting roaring drunk, Damen finally started to enjoy himself. He let his mind wander to where he saw Jokaste sitting with her family at a table a ways away. Somewhere was also Nik, who he’d have to find later to complain about the stuffy Veretians to.

Despite his drunken haze, he had to admit the entertainment had been very good. Of course, that was because the slaves of Akielos were the best and most beautiful in the world. The Veretians had to be seething with jealousy in Damen’s mind.

After the slaves were done, Damen shot from his chair to hunt out Jokaste as his dance partner for the evening. Time lost all meaning with her. They danced, they dined, and they discussed the future as the world turned around them. He was powerless to deny her request to go to bed with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. Irl got super busy for me and wore me out but I always thought of this story. I won't give up on it.  
> If you noticed, I put 25 chapters as my end. I've outlined out the rest of the chapters so I have a plan and want to stick to it. That would mean we are hopefully halfway done.  
> Thank you all so much for being patient and sticking with me.


	14. Lost in Translation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take this almost 5k chapter feat. smut as an apology for such a long hiatus between chapters 12 and 13.
> 
> I'd also like to take a moment to address something. If you haven't noticed, this is not a fic where Damen is going realize slavery is Bad because he falls in love with Felis and can't be with him unless he frees him (and then he may as well free them all while he's at it.) That's not the sandbox I'm playing in right now. You're not supposed to like Damen. He is pre-canon Damen, aka a privileged fuckboy who was raised in a culture where slavery is fine. If you want to see if/how he grows as a person, you'll just have to keep reading.

The days following the first feast passed without any international incident. The Akielon royals and the Veretian nobles would hole themselves up in the exalted king’s private study for most of the morning where they would stay into the mid-afternoon. Only those with formal invitation were allowed in for specific meetings. It tended to be military generals, guild leaders, and council leaders. Even guards were made to stand outside the door along with the slaves and pets. The only person of no rank in the room was the exalted king’s own slave.

Some days Felis would find himself kneeling beside Kallias for hours on end as they waited outside the door for their masters to emerge. His one consolation was unlike the guards, he did not have to stand the whole time. And Damianos would usually take him back to his room for a round of sex right after.

Felis closed his eyes as he thought about their couplings. Somedays, the crown prince was mentally exhausted and wanted nothing more than a slow session where he could find pleasure at his own pace in Felis. Other days, his eyes were hard and he would all but drag Felis to bed to fuck the frustration out. It was hard to decide which rhythm he liked better since both left him out of breath and feeling like he was floating in a sea of pleasure.

He couldn’t dwell on that now as his mind turned to the events of tomorrow. There was to be a sports tournament to highlight the strength of the Akielons and Felis and the other slaves were in charge of getting their master’s things prepared for it. Mentally, he went through everything that needed to be done for tomorrow and checked them off in his head just to pass the time. Very little was left as it should be with how efficient they were at their job. The only task left to Felis would be to put the final polish on Damianos’ crown and ceremonial sword and breast-plate when they returned to his chambers and then to lay everything out for the morning.

Confident in the tasks ahead, Felis wiggled his pinky finger to get Kallias’ attention.

Silently, the two started up a slave’s hand game to pass the time. Above them, the guards chattered about the local gossip. They talked about what it would be like to fuck a Veretian, if they could get past all the laces they conceded with a laugh. From there the men moved on to talking about their own current conquests in bed. Then it was talk of the health of their parents and siblings.

The whole time they bounced from topic to topic, Felis kept an ear open for anything that would hint at someone else having seen Jokaste leaving prince Kastor’s rooms. Not once was her name mentioned in their conversation. The more time passed that he didn’t hear rumors circulating in any circle, from slaves to nobles, about her, the more Felis was convinced he had imagined Jokaste that night.

Before his mind could worry too much more about the topic of his exalted master’s lover, the doors opened. Everyone outside jolted to attention as the Veretians strolled out. Their pets fell in behind them and they all walked away down the corridor. The talk in their native tongue echoed off the marble walls.

 _Of course, it echoes, there are only frescos and mosaics on the walls, not tapestries to dampen the sound._ The thought sprang unbidden to Felis’ mind. As quick as it appeared, it was pushed under thoughts of his master.

Kallias and Felis shuffled inside and went to kneel by their respective exalted master, ready to receive instructions.

Their three rulers still were seated about a large table littered with papers, quills, and ink pots.

“I’m telling you, a snake is still a snake Father,” Damianos started.

“And I’m telling you we will seem kinder if we rework the Treaty of Delpha. It will be better for the future Father. Damianos just can’t see it.” Kastor rebutted.

There was a moment of silence before the king spoke. “The future, eh? Leave it to a man in his prime to speak of the future to someone who has lived it. Both of you are dismissed for the day. Kastor, see the messages get sent out today. Damen, finish overseeing the arena set up for tomorrow. Leave an old man to his thoughts.”

Properly chastised, both gave a quick dip of their head and stood up. Felis saw Kastor pass Kallias a stack of letters on the way out along with a list of name of who to deliver them to.

“Felis, go to my chamber and see that everything is ready for me tomorrow,” ordered his exalted master. Felis bowed his head before also leaving the stateroom and making his way to the bedchamber.

Once there he laid out every item his master would need the next day to give it a thorough inspection.

A fine cotton chiton with a bold geometric purple and gold print was inspected for any stain or tear. Finding none, Felis carefully folded it and hung it over the top of the privacy screen in the corner of the room. Next was the skirt of sturdy leather and brass rivets. Meticulously, it was cleaned and oiled until the brass shone and the leather felt supple and smooth to the touch. It too was draped over the screen. Felis gave the same care to his exalted master’s preferred pair of sandals. Those he set beside a chair. Next, he looked over the deep purple cape and finding no problem with it, it joined the rest of the clothes on the screen. Lastly came polishing his master’s breastplate and sword.

On crossed legs, Felis felt time fall away as he buffed circles into the smooth, sculpted surface of the armor piece. Little by little, he could see his reflection sharpen as it became more and more polished. He knew this wasn’t the one used in battle if indeed the prince wore one. Felis had seen the long scar across his master’s chest more times than he could count. It was jagged and ropey and Felis loved to trace his finger along it when they lay chest to chest after a session of love-making.

“We both have scars from that day,” Damianos had said in a soft voice the first time he had caught Felis looking at it.

In the present, a brotherly voice chided him as he reached for the prince’s sword to begin polishing it. “You know swords are dangerous so let this be our secret.”

A half-smile quirked Felis’ lips as he grasped the hilt and began to carefully polish the blade. It was one he didn’t even realize he was making until he held up the sword to admire its shine. He saw his eyes staring back at him, lit by a happy light. He pulled a funny face at himself.

With nothing else to do, Felis flopped on the bed and nestled into its downy comfort to wait for his master.

Night drew in and Felis dozed fitfully. His stomach rumbled so he snacked on some of the fruit and bread that was always present in the crown prince’s chamber. The hour for dinner came and went, and still, Damianos was not back, not that it worried Felis.

When he finally came in, it was with slumped shoulders and heavy steps. He offered a weary smile at Felis as he stripped off his chiton and walked towards the bed. With no word of warning, the crown prince flopped over, pinning Felis to the bed before he could properly kneel.

Felis let out a muffled squeak. Above him, the prince let out a rumbly laugh against his shoulder.

“Oh, what’s this big lump in my bed? It certainly will make it hard to sleep well tonight before the tournament.” Damianos spoke aloud to the open room while pressing his full weight on Felis.

Felis wiggled valiantly to extract himself from under the prince to kneel beside him on the bed. The prince turned to look up at him, his brown eyes soft and dark in the dim light of the room. One of his hands reached out to stroke Felis’ knee.

“I’m glad you’re mine Felis. You make me think not _all_ Veretians are snake-talking double-crossers.”

Felis let out a contented _humm_ as his master rolled over onto his back and dragged his hands down his face as he let out a long groan.

From behind his hands, he added, “Your people are exhausting. Be glad your life is so simple with us.”

Having enough of the talking and wanting his master to end the evening before the tournaments on a good note, Felis grabbed the crown prince’s wrists and dragged his hands from his face. He swung a leg over his waist and positioned his ass squarely above Damianos’ groin. A bit of hip rolling was enough for Felis to shift his chiton out of the way and get the prince’s hardening cock more engaged.

Damianos’ hands drifted to his hips, under the chiton, the thumbs resting in their valley and his fingertips brushing along his spine. Their warmth felt comforting to Felis as he leaned down to kiss the soft lips below.

One of his hands drifted behind to guide the prince into him. He had had plenty of time to prep himself before the prince had shown up and was able to take him in one slow sink down. Both took a deep breath in pleasure when Felis’ cheeks rested on Damianos’ thighs.

A lazy, pleased smile lifted Felis’ cheeks at the ecstasy written on his master’s face.

He set a slow pace. Rising and falling fast enough to keep the prince’s interest but not to race to the finish line. The only noises between them were his name being gasped out on occasion and deep groans from them both when he rolled his hips just right on the slid down.

It took longer than usual to reach their climax given the slow pace but Felis’ confidence in his own abilities was not misplaced. He felt his master’s nails bite the skin of his spine as he spilled hot inside him. The knowledge he had pushed his prince over the edge was enough to send Felis tumbling right over it after him.

His arms collapsed from where they had been braced against the prince’s firm chest. He tucked his head under Damianos’ chin and listened to his thundering heartbeat. He could see little red crescents above his master’s nipple where his fingernails had bitten into his skin. Arms circled around him and felt hot as fire compared to the damp sweat drying on his back in the cool night air. After a time, they both adjusted enough for the prince’s soft cock to slip out though neither made a move to clean up. They were exhausted and had quite the day to look forward to.

***

They awoke the next morning to the quiet shuffling of feet as the other slaves of the crown prince’s retinue entered his chamber in the early morning. Two followed their sleepy master into the bathroom to assist him with his morning rituals. When he was gone behind the closed door, Felis gathered his rumpled chiton from where it had been tossed on the floor the night before and left to see to his own needs.

Attentive to how much time had passed and the list of things he needed to do to serve his exalted master that morning, he made sure to keep his own bath quick, though thorough. He cleaned the dried evidence of their love-making of this stomach and thighs then washed the rest of his body with a perfumed soap. His hair also was washed with a frothy soap he knew Damianos liked the scent of.

Rubbing on oil imbued with gold dust to moisturize his skin and hair was the final step in his preparations. Feeling refreshed, Felis carefully draped a pale blue chiton around his body and pinned it with his beloved lion pin. To keep it from getting wet, he piled his still damp hair atop his head and fastened it in place with little pins capped with pearls.   

From the low table in the common room spread with food, he plucked a hand-full of juicy raspberries and an airy roll drizzled with honey and dusted with cinnamon. He poured himself a mug of aromatic coffee and took a moment to be selfish and enjoy the quiet that was so rare in the slave quarters. But he knew he couldn’t dally long so he finished his meal and headed once more his master’s chambers.

There he joined the well-choreographed routine of readying the crown prince for a formal event and tournament. In between other slaves oiling his arms and legs, pinning his chiton on, tightening the straps of his breast-plate, and winding the chords of his shoes up his strong calves, Felis and another made sure to get a full meal down his throat. It would reflect poorly on them for their master’s stomach to grumble so early in the morning.  

Before he could be presented his sword, Damianos snatched it up from where it leaned against the wall in its sheath. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed his slaves from duty before heading out himself.

Felis and his friends did not leave immediately. Instead, they tidied up the room and went over their plans for the day. Already, two of the women would be looking after the prince while he sat with the other nobles to watch the events. Others would be on standby to run and fetch anything their master may desire over the course of the long day. Felis, by virtue of his exalted master noticing his proficiency at caring for his breastplate and sword, would be stationed in his personal tent to help him prepare for his own events. While the order had drawn jealous stares from some of his companions initially, they could see the logic in their master’s thinking.

One of his fellow slaves gave him a large woven basket to put what he needed for the day in. Carefully, he placed the vial of oil wrapped in a polishing cloth in it first along with a whetstone. Then, he ducked into the bathroom to grab a few bottles of massage oil, figuring after the wrestling Damianos would be participating in it would be a good idea.

Once everyone had gathered what they needed from the room, they left together for the arena.

The sun was hot on the back of Felis’ neck where his hairstyle left it exposed. He shifted the basket to tuck it between one arm and his hip. With his free hand, he plucked all the pins out and dropped them into the basket as his hair fell in soft, still damp waves around his shoulders to prevent his skin from burning That was another reason he was to be attending his prince in his tent. It wouldn’t do for a royal slave to be seen red and peeling like a common farm boy, something easily possible given his complexion.

In pairs and one by one, the slaves split off from the group to go to their stations. Most of them reported to the raised platform shaded by an awning where the nobles sat to fan them and serve them light treats and chilled wine in the heat.

Felis ducked into his exalted master’s tent alone. Inside was warm from the lack of air movement and the lit brazier in the corner. He set his basket on a small table and rolled the tent flaps open to encourage a breeze to enter. Next, he set out the vials of massage oil on the bed’s side table. The other materials for caring for Damianos’ sword and armor he set beside the sword rack and T-stand that would hold the breast-plate.

With nothing else to do but wait, Felis took up his post kneeling to the side of the open tent flap. The rough cotton of the large rug covering the ground inside the tent was scratchy on his shins but he held his position with a focus and grace that came from years of training. A light breeze blew across his face, caring with it scents of baked good from the vendors who had come and the sounds of a roaring crowd.

From his position, he could not see any of the arena. The tent was too far away, set far back in the middle of the small city of tents that had sprung up. People rushed by from all sides, going every direction. Sometimes, the path that lead from the arena to the prince’s tent would clear long enough for Felis to see the mass of people crowded around the fence.

Cheers and groans rose from the crowd in waves as new wrestlers stepped forth, trying to climb in rank. All fought for the honor of wrestling the crown prince. Though in Felis’ heart the match would be one-sided, always in favor of his master, for he was too skilled and could never lose. _He never gives his opponent a moment to rest, he always pushes his advantage,_ his brain supplied in a sly whisper.   

His view only got worse as the day drew on. The crowd became more and more dense as the skill of those wrestling got better and better. Calls for bets and wagers flew thick and fast. Felis caught the shine of silvers being passed from hand to hand in the midday sun. It would die down for a few minutes where the spectators would shout for the wrestler of their choice to take down the other. Then the flash of silver would pick back up as bets were won or lost.

When the crowd fell silent and the sun had passed its zenith, Felis perked up, certain this was the last match before the match with his master.

The screams from the crowd reached a fever pitch before breaking into chanting the new champion’s name. He was a hero for the people, to bet for against their crown prince.  

Felis settled back into his position. His master would be coming soon to be oiled up while his opponent took the break to refresh himself as well. Or so Felis had heard.  

A crowd trailed after the prince as he walked towards his tent. From under his lashes, Felis could see them start to split off and hang back. He remained unobtrusive as a slave should be, kneeling off to the side until his master arrived and bid his entourage leave him to prepare.

The crown prince walked past him, heading straight for the basin of water to refresh himself. Felis undid the loose cords that held the tent-flaps open to give his master privacy.

When he was done, the two met in the middle with no words exchanged between them. Felis knew what his master needed and wanted before the man himself knew. It was something he took pride in. It spoke of his immaculate training, to be prepared for all things his master could ever think to need.

Damianos held his arms out as Felis fluttered around him, touches light as a butterfly on a flower. His cape and chiton slithered down his body as Felis removed them. He lay them carefully on the bed so they wouldn’t wrinkle. He returned with the oil.

He up-ended the vial until a generous pool of oil sat in his palm, then he set to work. Starting at the tips of the crown prince’s fingers, Felis worked his way up the arm, across his shoulders then down the length of the other arm, warming up the muscles with his kneading. From there, he circled around Damianos’ chest and back before working down the solid columns of his legs.

When he finished, Felis drew back to the table where a platter of grapes and cheese lay out. He traded the vial of oil for the food and offered it to his lounging master. The prince grabbed a handful of fruit which he popped in his mouth, gave a few perfunctory chews, and then swallowed.

A knock on one of the tent posts outside drew their attention.

“Damen, are you ready?” The voice from outside asked.

The crown prince rose with a confident grin on his face. He rolled his neck and shoulders before striding out of the tent. Felis took a moment to admire how the sun glistened in the oil on the planes of muscle of his nude body before averting his eyes.  

He slung his arm around the other man’s neck and started to walk away with him, boasting all the way.

“Nikandros, you know I'm ready! The real test with be the okton. You’ll be joining me for that right?”

Felis tied open the tent flaps again and resumed his place by the entrance. Soon, his master was swallowed up by the crowd cheering his name and he lost sight of them.

Felis knew he had a few minutes to himself and rose to go relieve himself in the slave’s tent.

Walking with even steps and his head down, Felis made his way to the tent. Inside were a few of his fellow slaves who waved to him and asked how everything was going. He responded with a gesture and a smile that everything was going well but that their master needed something more than fruit and cheese the next day before he participated in the okton. As he ducked behind the privacy screen, he heard someone else leave, saying they were headed for the kitchens to let the cook know.

Done with his business, Felis started to make his way back to the prince’s tent. It was not a long walk, especially given it was mostly empty by the tents because most people were watching the wrestling match. Not expecting others around him except for fellow slaves, Felis almost jumped out of his skin when a large hand landed on his shoulder.

He was spun around to be faced with one of the Veretian nobles. He started to drop to his knees in prostration but the grip on his shoulder tightened, keeping him from kneeling.

In strongly accented Akielon, he spoke. “Give this to the prince, _esclave_.” He thrust a letter into Felis’ hands before quickly walking away into the maze of tents.

Blinking at the strange encounter, Felis looked at the letter in his hand. On the outside, in flowing letters, was written _Dauphin_. That struck Felis as odd. On one hand, the man had said prince, referring to Kastor, but his letter would be for Damianos, the crown prince. Figuring it was meant for his master and the man had merely misspoke, he tucked it into the folds of his chiton about his waist and continued back.

When he returned, Felis took up his post inside the tent. This time when he assumed his position of folded legs and head down, he did not place his palms flat on his thighs as was his default. Instead, they held the letter up, face up, so that his master might grab it from his hands when he returned.

The crowd was still deafening and packed at least ten people deep from what Felis could see through his upturned eyes. Through the mass of bodies, it was impossible to see the match. It went on long enough for Felis to start to feel the burn of holding his arms aloft but he fell back into his training. He acknowledged the fatigue and accepted it, letting it ground him and keep him focused on holding his form.

The crowd started chanting, “Damianos, Damianos!” He’d done it, his exalted master had won the match. Pride in his master was enough to buoy Felis’ spirit and give him a burst of energy to keep holding his arms up. It wouldn't be long now.

When the crowd did part, the crown prince wasn't alone. His friend, Nikandros, had an arm slung about his shoulders while he pumped the other one on the air. Behind them trailed a similarly built man Felis could only guess was the man his master had wrestled.

Felis cast his eyes down as the trio drew close and the crowd dispersed behind them to search their own revelries.

Nikandros said is good-bye at the tent flap, wishing Damianos a good afternoon and to not forget the feast this evening or the okton the following day. Damianos’ was joyous in Felis’ ears as he said bye to his friend.

The stranger walked in past Felis who remained kneeling to present the letter. Damianos closed the tent flaps.

He walked past Felis, swiping the letter out of his hand as he walked past.

 _I’ll stay until I am dismissed, in case my exalted master would have me deliver a response,_ Felis rationalized to himself. He remained in his place, still as a statue save for his arms which he lowered to his thighs. His ears were attune for the order to leave the two men for their afternoon of pleasure.

The tearing of the envelope was background noise to the easy flirting Damianos had going on with the people’s champion.

“Exalted?” The champion asked again when he was not given a response.

They were behind him and Felis could not see his master, he could only feel the silence that hung fragile in the air. A sense of wrongness settled on his shoulders though he could not say from where it came. Maybe it was from how strange it was for his boisterous master to have gone so quiet so suddenly.

“Is something wrong,” asked the man.

Still, Damianos did not speak. The only sound Felis heard was the light rasp of a finger over thick paper and his master’s breathing.

“Get out,” came the order. It was cold and stung the back of Felis’ neck like a whip.

His training froze his limbs before he could scrabble out. He still was a palace slave, made to be beautiful and flawless. He rose as quickly as he could and reached for the tent flap before his master’s voice froze him to his core.

“You stay, slave,” Damianos ground out through gritted teeth. “You may go,” he directed at the champion.

Felis sunk to his knees, palms on the ground and head bowed until it touched his hands. His eyes were closed, holding back tears. His mind raced, _what did I do wrong?_ Every little thing he’d done since his master had entered had been flawless. The unknown was terrifying. He knew he was trembling, a severe transgression, but he couldn't fight it.

Quick steps past his ears and a flash of afternoon sun on his cheek let Felis know the other man had left the tent.

“Come here,” ordered his exalted master.

Without looking up, Felis crawled forward with his shoulders hunched up until he was crouched before the feet of the crown prince.

A hand reached under his chin and forced his face up. The eyes that bore into his heart and soul were not the soft bedroom eyes he knew or the devious eye alight with joy while in the meal hall with friends or the sad eyes when talked turned to the health of his father. These eyes were hard and scrutinizing.

“Tell me who gave you this letter.”

***

The Veretians exhausted Damen to the point of wanting to give in to all their demands if only for them to leave faster. The ambassador, Guion was the worst of the bunch. Only the thought of the tournament was getting Damen through his duties with the man.  

At the tournament, Damen was proud of his countrymen. They all put on great displays of power, technique, and sportsmanship. Secretly, he was excited that one man he'd been eyeing had risen to everyone he'd wrestled and won. After their match, Damen had planned to bed him immediately.

That plan was dashed the moment he read the letter.

It had been addressed to him, or so he had thought given his understanding of Veretian. By its contents, it was a letter he was never to have known the existence of. His blood boiled at its far-reaching implications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try this hot new thing called semi-regular updates because I signed up for the Capri Big Bang and I'm making myself finish this story before that really starts so keep commenting to help me keep my motivation up. 
> 
> And something everyone has been wanting to happen will be happening very, Very soon :3

**Author's Note:**

> Well what do you think? What do you like, what don't you like, and how can I improve? What do you hope to see going forward?
> 
>  Comments>Kudos imo
> 
> [ My tumblr ](http://www.the-teller-of-tales.tumblr.com)


End file.
